Heart of Ice
by Elessar
Summary: FF6 Alternate Universe: With Doma besieged and Figaro invaded, the Returners must fight the Empire at the height of its power. Their last hope: Celes Chere. But this damsel has her own plan for our heroes... Complete
1. A Chance Meeting

_Disclaimer_

This is purely a work of fiction and the author does not claim ownership of any of Squaresoft's intellectual property.

_ Author Notes_

Inspiration and escapism; Heart of Ice was born as the rays of dawn broke upon my humble shack. This was originally a two-part story to draw out some creative juices and crush a writer's block, but has spiralled into an alternate universe of its own. It is a complete rewrite of the World of Balance based around a single, critical character change.

This is a fluffy, 'light-hearted' piece that should be paired with buttered popcorn and a can of soda.

Enjoy!

* * *

**_Heart of Ice_**

by Colin**_  
_**

**Chapter the First - A Chance Meeting**

He was whistling a little jig he had just heard; the tune was just so memorable! Even under occupation, the taverns of South Figaro were the best in the world. It took more than the Imperial Army to stop those girls from dancing. 

An explosion rocked the city.

The green-helmet wearing soldier glanced back. Smoke was rising.

"Ooh, that's gonna sting," he remarked.

Footsteps approached and he turned back towards the mansion. A pair of men, wide-eyed and scared out of their minds, gestured towards the rising plume of smoke. "Sir, that was downto-"

"Lieutenant," the soldier corrected.

The two men blanched. "Lieutenant, sir," they apologized as one. "Those were our frontliners!"

"Take a squad to check it out, locals might take the chance to pounce on us," the Lieutenant decided. He pointed at the men guarding the entrance of the mansion. "Go, all of you."

"Sir?"

"I said go!"

The Imperial soldiers left their assigned posts quickly, not noticing the smirk beneath the green-helmet. So concerned they were by the sudden and surprising destruction of their Magitek Armors that they didn't even notice the way he clicked his heels together, or how he was still whistling the tune of the local bars.

Without a care in the world, Locke Cole entered the Imperial Headquarters in an occupied South Figaro.

---

Locke gave the soldier a good kick.

"Hmm, definitely asleep," he remarked. He investigated the crossbolts that he had picked up: they glistened with a strange green liquid. "Better keep these."

"Mrrr!"

Locke glanced over. "Ah, sorry about that," he pulled a key-ring out of the sleeping guard's pocket and quickly unlocked the chains.

She pulled the gag out herself.

"You're awfully short for a soldier..."

Locke looked the woman up and down. Long blond hair, eyes that sparkled despite the fatigue... and a fist so tightly bunched up that it would have put a hole through solid rock.

"Sorry about that," Locke pushed the Imperial helmet just a bit higher so that she could see his eyes. "Forgot about these clothes... I'm not a soldier but I don't think you're going to complain, General Celes."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm with the Returners; the name's Locke," he stood back up and gestured outside. "Let's go."

"I can't."

"Are you hurt?" Locke's eyes roved over the beauty's legs. "You don't look like it."

"That's not it."

"Then let's go. I know a way out, but it takes a bit of time," he smirked.

"You don't understand, even if you got me out of here, I'm going to be dead."

"Hey," Locke raised his hands. "I managed to get in here, right? I can get you out. You'll be fine, trust me."

"You only want to help me because you think I'm the General."

That took the wind out of his sails. "What?"

"I'm not General Chere," she repeated.

Locke rolled his eyes. Blond hair, teenaged girl, army uniform with three stars on it... "Okay, I'm not stupid and we don't have time for this," he grumbled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled. "Let's get out of here!"

Despite her complaints, the pair left the storage closet together. Between the shadows, the cobwebs, and the sense of distrust the two had for each other, neither noticed that they were being watched.

---

They paused just before the rickety bridge. They were still high up in the mountains and the air was a little thin.

"Come on Celes, we've got keep moving! Just because there's been no pursuit so far doesn't mean there won't be any."

She was bent over panting, hands on knees as she huffed and puffed. "I can't run any further... and stop calling me that," she complained again.

Locke gestured back at the mountains. "That tunnel isn't secret and they'll come after you, General," he folded his arms. "Frankly, I expected something just before we exited," he mumbled under his breath. "It's like something's not right in the world."

"Just... let me catch my breath," she panted again.

Locke rolled his eyes. "General of the Empire, but barely in shape. I guess you ride everywhere on chocobos, don't you?"

"For the last time, I'm not General Chere!" despite being out of breath, Celes stormed up to Locke with an angry scowl on her face. "Are you that dense?"

"I'm pretty sick of hearing it too," Locke quipped. "Look at that uniform-" his eyes lingered for a second too long, "-and the hair... oh, and the whole being locked up for betraying the Empire!"

"That's what they want you to believe," she groaned. "You Returners really are stupid."

"I was really expecting a little more thanks."

Celes grabbed a fistful of his hair. She pulled, hard.

"Hey, what-"

"Look!"

Locke found himself close -- too close, really -- to the maiden's blond hair.

Wait...

"The roots are red," he pushed her away and looked her up and down once more. "You're a red-head?"

Celes groaned. "For the last time, I'm not Celes! This hair? It's dyed! The uniform? They put it on me!"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "They were torturing you pretty thoroughly... you sure you didn't just hit your head?"

Her exasperation was such that Locke decided it was best to play along.

"Alright, let's just say you're not General Celes. Why were you a prisoner, and who did I just rescue?"

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "They wanted someone to pretend to be her, to draw attention," she declared. Her eyes followed him as he started to walk around her. "What... what are you doing?"

"Thinking," Locke lied as he discretely checked her out for head trauma.

"Well that's really odd," she remarked. "Anyways, I was about her age and had the same build, it didn't help that the Captain didn't like me-" she glowered at him. "What are you doing now?"

Locke straightened. His eyes quickly averted back to her face. "Keep going!" he said far too quickly.

The girl pulled her cloak closed at last. "Anyways, my name's Ma- gah!"

A part of him wanted to joke about her name being Magah. Another part drew his knife in a heartbeat, pulled not-Celes behind him protectively, and found the man with the darts hidden on the ledge above them.

"I'll protect you," he whispered as he pulled not-Celes close.

Her eyes bulged out and her breaths came in ragged gasps. "Run!" her lips managed to form.

She pushed him off the side of the mountain.

---

They watched as the Returner faded away down the mountainside.

"No one could've survived that," the short man declared. He pulled his cloak tight and hid the pack of darts that were wrapped around his belt.

"The Returners are more than they seem. How's the girl?"

The short man looked at the teenager collapsed beside the mountain pass. "She'll be out for a few hours, Boss."

"Good," the Boss declared. He snapped the buttons together on his own coat. "We'll need her."

"She really does look like her."

"Of course, I'm a man of my word. Let's get out of here."

The short man looked back down the mountain. It was a long drop. "If you really think he survived, shouldn't we go after him?"

"It doesn't matter. It's too late for him to change anything."

"That seems like one hell of a gamble."

The boss brushed back his long, glimmering white hair. He chuckled.

"That's fine with me. They're already all in."


	2. Encounter in the Snow

**Chapter the Second - Encounter in the Snow**

He threw the door wide-open and stormed into the home of the Narshe Elder. 

"We've got problems!" Locke shouted.

An empty room greeted him.

Locke scratched his head with a bandaged hand. Even the coals in the fireplace were at a lull. "Something's really not right," he muttered.

"That you, Locke?"

"Elder!" Locke exclaimed as the old man appeared from his room. "Where is everyone?"

"Everyone?" came a confused echo. "Are you alright there? You look pretty hurt."

"These bandages are just for show," Locke laughed off the pain. "Where's Edgar and Banon?"

Eyes with the wisdom of many decades glared at him. "The Returners are coming here? Is this your doing, Locke? You know what will happen if the Returners come here. The Empire will attack us just like they did to Doma."

"That's nonsense," Locke snapped. He glanced around. "Are you sure they haven't shown up?"

"Get out of here," the Elder pointed out the door, "before you endanger anyone else."

Locke's temper flared, but he was more concerned for his friends. What had happened to them? They should have escaped down the Lete River without any problems and arrived in Narshe far earlier than he did.

Wait, they had come here intending on speaking with the frozen Esper. They had spent precious hours convincing Terra that they needed her... hours that might have cost them everything had the Imperials arrived just a little sooner.

The Esper.

---

Gusts of wind threatened to tear him off the mountainside even though he was knee-deep in snow. His eyes watered from the chill of the air; not that it mattered, he couldn't see further than he could spit. A relentless blizzard had settled into the highlands around Narshe.

Then Locke saw them: footsteps.

He was on the right track.

Only force of will kept him moving as fast as he did. Every wound in his body flared out in pain. It was cold, really cold at that, and he wished he grabbed a fur-coat before coming up here. His bandages were half-frozen and hurt more than they comforted. Yet he trudged on, his teeth chattering and his body shivering.

A glow was up ahead. He was there at last, standing before an ancient beast that was living legend. Silhouetted in front was a single shape, arms spread wide despite the horrendous gusts of wind.

"Edgar?" Locke hollered at the shadowy shape.

It turned towards him. The curve of her figure made it obvious that this was not his kingly friend.

"Terra?" Locke stepped into the icy aura that surrounded the frozen Esper.

A fur hood hid her hair from sight, but a single lock of green hair was visibly frozen against her coat. She smiled at him.

It sent chills down his spine.

"Returner. You survived."

Locke rubbed his eyes. This _was_ the same girl he had rescued in the caves of Narshe, but that voice was something altogether different. It was colder than the icy blizzard about them and just hearing her sent him several steps back. And that look in her eyes... it was feral in its ferocity.

"You even managed to get up here despite my spells. I'm impressed."

Locke opened his mouth. He shut it. He opened it again.

"_Who_ are you?"

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips twisted upward in a beautiful, yet demonic smile.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Until that exact moment, it hadn't been. And then the puzzle pieces all snapped together: the strange reasoning for the Imperial assault on Narshe, the incompetence of sending a woman controlled only by a slave crown, the continual Imperial pursuit, Kefka's foreknowledge of her escape to Castle Figaro, the attack on the Returner headquarters...

"Celes," he whispered.

Her smile broadened. It made her only more breathtakingly beautiful.

"I knew you were smarter than you looked."

"Everything in the last month was just an elaborate setup," Locke whispered in horror. The pain in his joints had been forgotten and the winter gusts about them ignored. "That slave crown, the amnesia... the whole naiveté... it was all just an act."

She clasped her hands behind her back. Her eyes twinkled.

"I was good, wasn't I? I think I'd be good enough for the Opera."

"Was it all a lie?"

She shrugged. "Maybe... though I didn't have to lie about everything." Her palm came up and an icy flame appeared. "Can't pretend to be half-Esper, you know."

"So this was all an elaborate plot just to get us?"

Celes frowned. "Oh come now, you Returners were just icing on the cake. It was so silly that I could delay your entire group for nearly half a day because I was scared!" she laughed. "I couldn't resist!"

"Where's Edgar!" Locke pointed at her and shouted angrily. "What'd you do to my friends?"

Celes shrugged half-heartedly. "They'll get back to civilization just fine in a couple of days, but it'll be too late by then. The Returners are already scattered apart, the Empire will go after Figaro and tie up whatever resources they have in two stupid wars, and Narshe will be helpless without the Esper over here. Listen Locke... I can call you Locke, right?"

He drew his blades. "I hope you die, you Imperial witch."

A delicate finger rested against her pale lips. "That hurts, Locke. Just because I have magic doesn't mean I'm Imperial."

That caught him off-guard. "Wha-?"

She giggled. "I think we could be great friends. You helped me out and from what I've heard, really gave Gestahl something to think about back in South Figaro. Now that Tritoch is mine, nothing can stop me. And I can give you so much... like the power to crush the Empire." Her lips pulled back to reveal a bloodthirsty smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Locke's mouth dropped open. "Gestahl...? You're not working for the Empire?"

"I thought we already established that. Just as dense as the rest, aren't you?" she sighed. "Forget it. I have ancient magic to wield and a world to control."

"I won't let you!"

Celes caught his arm as he struck out, a playful giggle departing her lips as she threw him aside with ease. "Oh come on!" she laughed as he tumbled in the snow. "You scream out your intentions and expect to catch me by surprise? And I mean, look at you... you look like you fell off a mountain or something."

Locke groaned in pain. He pushed himself off the ground.

"You're just as bad as the Empire," he growled.

Celes shook her head. "That hurts," she said mockingly.

A blast of freezing ice to his chest made him scream out in pain.

"Though probably not as bad as this will!"

The breath was forced out of his body as he was sent flying back. He tumbled back into the snow, the fluffy cold stuff offering little protection against the ragged rocks beneath. His bandages were ripped off, his clothes torn and fresh cuts opened as he rolled through the white powder.

And then suddenly, nothing but air.

---

She watched him disappear into the darkness below. A sigh left her lips.

"Locke, if only you believed in me."

The blizzard that surrounded her was suddenly blasted aside, gusts of wind overpowering even her magic and clearing the mountain ledge of all snow. She shielded her eyes from the turbulence as she glanced upward.

At the shape of a ship hovering above.

"It's about time you got here," Celes grumbled. She pulled off her hood and freed her long locks of hair, letting them whip around in the wind as she gazed upon the frozen Esper.

Her fingers snapped out and caught a green strand. A disapproving frown spread on her face.

"Definitely need to wash the dye out. I hate this colour."


	3. Engulfed by Fire

**Chapter the Third - Engulfed by Fire  
**

"So you're telling me Terra Branford never existed, and that her entire persona had been a clever device by a renegade General to steal the frozen Esper from Narshe? That she drew out the Returners as a decoy and began a war between the Empire and Figaro all to distract Emperor Gestahl?" 

Locke nodded. "Nice summary," he added.

"Yeah, okay, I can believe that convoluted mess even though you've obviously bumped your head several times. I can even believe you got your ass handed to you by an extremely attractive, teenaged girl half your size. It'd help if you used something other than that wimpy little knife, but not all of us have the option."

"At least I'm not over-compensating with a giant spear," Locke grumbled. "And she had magic! And I fell off a _mountain_ for fu-"

"But the real question is this!" King Edgar of Figaro interrupted as he gestured past the ramparts and towards the sinking sun in the east. "How in the name of everything good did you survive the wilderness, cross half the globe and end up on the footsteps of Doma Castle in the middle of an Imperial Siege?"

Locke Cole limped a step towards his old friend. He steadied himself on his crutch, one arm in a sling and most of his upper body wrapped in bandages. He leaned close.

"Trade secret," he winked.

Edgar groaned. He turned around to the huge, hulking shape of an armored knight behind them. "What do you think?"

"'tis foolish to discount yet another Imperial conspiracy," Cyan Garamonde of Doma decided. "Locke Cole, you shalt enjoy the comfort of our dungeons until further notice."

"That's a little harsh," Edgar pointed out. "He's probably unwilling to admit he just washed up here thanks to the river."

"We cannot assume fortune is upon our side," Cyan stated gravely. He gestured to the Imperial Camp just visible at the edge of the horizon. Shapes of Magitek Armors could be seen gathering in force. "Nor does he have your integrity, King Edgar."

"Sorry Locke, not my decision," Edgar shrugged.

Locke's mouth dropped open. "We're all on the same side here!"

"Maybe a pretty, vulnerable girl co-opted you into this," Edgar pointed out.

"That's a low blow."

Edgar rolled his eyes. "Hey, you were the one who brought Terra-"

"_Celes_."

"-to my castle. Now, she nearly got the drop on us all when we were floating down the river. If it wasn't for my brother and his ingenious use of a stick, two potions, and that amputated purple thing that I swear was a tentacle, none of us would be alive right now."

"You seriously think that I'd give up the Returners just to keep my promise to some pretty girl?"

Silence. Disturbing, awkward silence.

"Oh fine. Just keep me away from the Imperials. Some of them might recognize me."

"I'll shalt see to your comfort personally," Cyan declared.

---

"How you feeling?"

Locke glanced up to see the muscular shape of Sabin standing outside the makeshift bars between him and freedom. He stood up and winced. Though his bones had mended, they still ached from the abuse they had gone through.

"Well they're feeding me pretty well, and the doctors say I didn't bump my head too badly."

Sabin laughed. "I heard about your little adventure. Sounds fun."

"Yeah, try it sometime."

"Might already have," Sabin winked. He gestured around Locke's cell. "Actually, I was wondering if you're okay locked up in here."

"You mean stuck in a storage closet turned prison cell?" Locke spread his arms and touched both walls with ease. "I've seen better."

"Probably spent a bit of time in them too," Sabin leaned against the wall with an easy grin.

"Your brother send you down here?"

"Yeah, my bro's feeling guilty but won't admit it. Banon's been arguing with the King too."

"Edgar?"

"Nah, the King of Doma. Can't remember his name for the life of me, too long-winded and everyone else just uses his title."

"Right."

"Anyhow, you need anything?"

Locke shrugged. "I'm concerned about the Esper. You hear anything from Narshe? It's been a couple of weeks now..."

"We're locked up pretty tight. The Empire's right outside the door and nobody's talking. They've got a whole lotta soldiers out there, and there's more every week."  
_  
Two stupid wars... _"Celes wanted the Empire to attack Doma," Locke thought out-loud.

"You think she's behind this? It's been going on for months now."

"No, I mean she said she wanted the Empire stuck in two stupid wars."

"Figaro will give'em a good fight."

"No," Locke snapped his fingers twice as he tried to think back. "It's not that. It was the way she said it... Tie up their resources in Figaro..."

Shivers ran down his spine. His eyes snapped up to Sabin's.

"Oh no."

---

"Fire!"

The airship shook from side to side as a broadside of cannons announced their presence, a thunderous roar from the skies.

Then followed the lightning.

Men were sent flying off the walls as they exploded apart, explosions and fire engulfing everything along the ramparts. Battlements burst in flames as lightning from the heavens struck Castle Doma, vaporizing flesh and stone without distinction.

Celes strolled across the quarterdeck past the numerous soldiers -- all wearing black-leather Imperial armor with Magitek markings -- toward the men gathered along the side. Her eyes were ice-cold, her own white cloak flapping in the wind as she steadied herself. She tried to ignore the mischievous laughter coming from the man at the wheel, his white hair flying freely as he spun the airship around for another pass at the Castle.

"Are your men ready, Major?"

The airship shuddered from yet another full broadside of cannonade. Her decks lit up with yellow light as electricity rippled from her guns.

"At your command, General!" the leader of the attack squad saluted as the yellow light faded away. Numerous armored men behind him did the same.

Celes took one glance through the smoke. Flames were spreading throughout the castle.

"Descend!" she ordered.

---

Sabin threw open the iron door, not even breathing hard after dashing up some six flights of stairs.

"Locke!" Sabin pointed accusingly at the figure against the wall.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Locke grumbled between gasps of air.

Sabin suddenly noticed the destruction around them. The hallway was filled with smoke and the castle suddenly shook. Screams came from his right and he turned, only to see two girls in dresses ran past, being pursued by a man in dark armor.

Dark Imperial Armor.

Sabin's fist smashed through the soldier's face. "Okay, I'll forget about your miraculous escape. We need to find my brother now!"

"Like I said, I've seen better," Locke grumbled. He knelt down and examined the soldier's armor. It was elite stuff: black jerkin made of the best leather, a rucksack filled with enough rations to last a week, as well as two finely-crafted knives painted a dull black. He smoothly pocketed those and their sheathes. "Question is how we're going to find- Hey!"

Sabin's attention finally left the two bubbly and overly-friendly girls at his arms. It seemed the pair had decided to stay near the martial-artist who had just rescued their lives. "What?" he asked with a goofy smile.

"I was talking!"

"He's just jealous," said the brown-haired girl on Sabin's right arm.

"You're just jealous," Sabin repeated in the exact same tone. The stupid smile had yet to fade.

Locke sighed. "We're never going to find out your brother at this rate."

"Of course we will; hey girls," Sabin glanced at the two beauties at his arms. "Where are the bad guys attacking?"

"The Throne Room," answered the red-haired girl on Sabin's left arm.

"See?" Sabin gave a thumbs-up.

"And which way is the Throne Room?" Locke asked.

"That way," the brown-haired girl pointed down the hall to their left. It was utterly deserted, though filled with smoke and its carpet aflame.

"Seems easy enough," Locke remarked.

Two Magitek Armors exploded through the walls. Black armored soldiers with swords, pikes, and bows followed the two beasts into the hallway. They turned towards them.

"I saw that coming," Locke cleared his throat. Sabin sighed and asked the two girls to go into the dungeon.

From behind them came a crashing sound. _Four_ Magitek Armors stormed through the stone walls, numerous brown-leather soldiers following them. At their lead was a statue of a man: his plate armor a forest green, three stars upon his massive shoulder-guards, a sword that seemed to flicker with tendrils of electricity, and a head of flatly-shaven blond hair.

He seemed angry.

"You didn't see that though," Sabin whispered.

"Nope," Locke swallowed.


	4. The Ice Queen

**Chapter the Fourth - The Ice Queen **

Swords clattered to the ground along with their lifeless bodies, still protectively wrapped in pristine, polished plate-mail. A heavy, leather boot came down and casually crushed the sprawled out hands.

"Your Majesty."

The King of Doma was restrained by two Imperial soldiers. "What is the meaning of this!"

"I think you know perfectly well what this is: an attack on your castle. We've won, you've lost," Celes gestured around the Throne Room. At least twenty men with Doman markings laid upon the ground, most in a pool of their own blood. "I'm the winner, you can call me Celes."

"Unhand me you demoness!"

"What a delightful combination of arrogance and irritation," Celes had a cute smile upon her face as she strode through the blood-slickened carpet. "I don't suppose you give lessons? I have a feeling subjects really adore your voice."

The King's expression was distorted by anger. "I am royalty! You will treat me with respect, you-"

"What?" her spittle landed on the King's nose. "Demoness? No, you've already used that one. Witch? Nah, maybe something else that rhymes with it."

"I demand to speak with your Emperor."

"Denied."

"You are a mere servant! You cannot speak to me this way!"

Celes raised an eyebrow. "Why, of course. I forgot, I'm just a humble servant addressing a King." Her black gauntlet gestured to the men holding the King back. "You two, let His Majesty go."

They did as they were told.

"Better, your Highness?" she clasped her hands together, as if begging for forgiveness.

"What do you want, Imperial?" the King of Doma straightened.

Celes strode up to the arrogant ruler. "This."

Her open palm struck the King across the cheek. He fell to the ground, blood seeping through the fingers that clutched his face. The pain had not yet dulled before Celes grabbed him by his fine silk collar. With a single arm, she lifted him to his knees.

"Now that we both know our place, I'm going to ask you a question. You're going to answer honestly, or you'll discover that I have a _very_ short temper."

The King was too busy choking to respond.

"Where is Alexander?"

Still busy.

With a sigh of frustration, Celes let go of the King's collar. "So damned inconvenient," she mumbled as the old man fell to the ground once more, gasping for air.

"General," an officer approached her carefully. "We don't have much time for extraction."

Celes sighed again. "I asked a question!" she shouted at the King. "Where's Alexander?"

"I have no idea of what you spe-"

Celes' boot caught him in the ribs. He keeled over.

"One last chance," Celes towered over the King of Doma. As she raised her hand, a blade of ice appeared above her. "Where is Alexander?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" His long white hair had cascaded over his shoulders and his face was smeared with his own blood. The King of Doma raised his head and pleaded with the source of his suffering.

"You're just a little girl," he whispered. "Please don't do this."

The blade of ice shattered in the air above her. A thousand shards washed over her shocked expression.

"You think I'm an idiot?"

"No-"

"You think," Celes strode up the steps to the throne. She freed her sword. "-I'm just a naive, slow-witted blonde plebe."

"Celes, please!" the King begged.

"Fine. You want me to believe that you, the King of Doma, didn't know that his ancestors have been hiding an Esper in this Kingdom since the War of the Magi? Do you swear on your life that you know nothing?"

"I don't even know what an Esper is!"

She raised her sword into the air.

A dragon appeared in the space above them, covered with green scales but its wings were made of white, red and blue feathers. It's forked tongue flicked out.

Lightning, fire, and ice blasted from its wingspan and tore Castle Doma apart. Walls exploded into a haze of smoke as lightning stripped the stone from its ancient foundations. A blizzard of ice engulfed the throne room while a wall of fire rippled away, devouring everything in its wake. A cloud of black smoke was all that remained of the western wing of Castle Doma.

"That's an Esper," Celes remarked. She brushed the inch of snow off her leather armor. "And-"

She spun around and glared at the floor just beneath the throne.

Her hand exploded through the stone and with a cry of anger, Celes pulled something out of the ground. It was a beautiful, sparkling crystal larger than the hand that gripped it. Pulsating with warmth, they watched in awe as snow visibly melted off her black gauntlet.

"You found it, General."

Even as shapes appeared through the smoke to their west, a blade of ice as long as her arm appeared next to her hand. With a gesture, the King of Doma collapsed into the snow-covered ground. His head rolled away, blood staining the pure white snow.

"I keep my promises," Celes stated coldly as she pocketed Alexander. She turned to greet the newcomers.

---

"My liege!" Cyan screamed. He charged forward along with two of his finest.

A dozen shapes moved to intercept them but unfortunately, that was not enough to even slow Cyan. Men were shorn apart as the Knights of Doma slaughtered everything in their way, aided by a spray of bolts.

Edgar dropped to his knees and reloaded his crossbow. Soldiers charged, only to meet a solid wall of metal as Domans arrived to protect him. He grinned with success as he raised his crossbow.

"Terra?" Edgar was shocked to see her familiar, shapely self near the throne.

Her blond hair bellowed out as a storm of ice erupted from her hands, striking Cyan and throwing him backwards into fluffy snow.

"Celes," Edgar corrected as he took aim. He held down the trigger.

---

"I said I need extraction now!" Celes shouted into her radio. She glanced worriedly at the walls facing the eastern wing of the castle. The noise coming from behind the stone was distinctly Imperial.

A burst of static accompanied his voice, but it wasn't enough to cover his smugness. "You know General, that's pretty risky for my ship. I don't know..."

Celes batted away one of the Doman men with her sword. "Fine, I'll double your pay!" she shouted as she decapitated the closest. "No, I'll triple it!"

"You know, those are pretty good pot odds."

He was definitely enjoying himself too much, Celes could almost see the amusement on his face. "That's not even blackjack, that's poker!" she snapped in frustration.

"Hey! Do I tell you how to general your soldiers?"

"Dammit Setzer! Stop wasting time."

"You know what I want."

One of the knights was upon her now, and she barely dodged an angry swing of his blade. Her hand whipped out and blasted him with ice, but there were still too many. "Fine! _One_ date, but no kissing!"

"You keep telling yourself that, hon. I'll be there in a sec."

Celes was of half the mind to break the radio when she sensed incredible danger. She spun around towards the west, only to scream out in pain as a bolt tore through her armor and into her ribs. She located the archer -- Edgar! -- but the spell died on her lips as five more bolts tore through her chest, her lungs filling up with blood as she breathed her last.

Or that's what should have happened.

_He_ took two in the side as his sprawling body batted away the other three. Rolling through the snow-covered marble, he stopped face up and was choking on his own blood.

Celes' mouth dropped open. "Locke?"

Gouts of fire blasted apart the eastern wall where he had came through. The shapes of Magitek Armors could be seen through the smoke.

Celes cupped his cheek. His pupils were dilated and his breathing laboured. "I said I'd protect you," Locke muttered as his head lolled off to the side.

The roof exploded inwards and rocks fell down upon them. A rope shot through the opening.

The Magitek Armors were blasting apart her men and fast approaching through the smoke were a number of Imperial swordsmen. At their lead was a flatly-shaven head -- she was out of time. With a running start, Celes jumped through the air. Her foot slammed into the foothold and she grabbed onto the rope with one hand, sword in the other.

"Gotta fly!" she winked at Edgar. Her blade batted away two more bolts as the rope reeled her into the sky. Before she vanished through the roof, she glanced back once more at his prone body.

"Thank you, Locke."


	5. The Empire Ascendant

_Dedicated to Intrasonic, my beta-reader and sanity check. Without you, there would be no Vision._

* * *

**Chapter the Fifth - The Empire Ascendant**

**  
**Edgar snapped loose another two bolts as Celes disappeared. Cursing his luck, he charged towards the Throne. He stumbled over a snow-covered corpse and fell fortuitously beside an unconscious Locke.

His pulse was weak, but at least there was one. That was good news.

"Drop your weapon and back away." Pikes were pointed in his face.

Edgar lowered his crossbow and stood up with both hands raised. His heart sank as brown leather swarmed through the Throne Room. Celes' soldiers had been caught between two fires. Now they were dead and without interlopers, the Empire proper had defeated Doma with ease.

Many of the Doman soldiers surrendered without ceremony the moment Magitek cannons were directed towards them. Others maintained resistance despite ten to one odds, but one of Cyan's knights had taken charge and ordered the stubborn to back down.

"I am King Edgar of Figaro," Edgar addressed the men behind the pikes. "Your commander is probably looking for me."

The soldiers exchanged nervous looks.

"King Edgar, I am relieved to see you here," came a loud, confident voice. Alone in a sea of his defeated enemies stood a warrior triumphant.

"General Christophe," Edgar recognized him immediately.

Leo gestured at the hole in the roof. "I want to know who that was."

"I wouldn't know."

"But you _do_ know, I can see it on your face. Why protect your enemy?" Leo strode up the stairs to the Throne.

Edgar straightened. "Because-"

"Die Imperial!"

Sparks arced as swords collided -- Leo barely parried Cyan's snow-covered form. Soldiers moved to support their General, but Leo's hand was raised.

Twice more did blades meet, Cyan's angry cries louder than the clash of metal. On the third strike, Leo drew close and struck Cyan across the face. The Doman Knight slipped and fell on his back.

"You're angry at the lost of your liege, Sir Cyan," Leo held the tip of his sword against the Knight's neck. "Knowing that, I will spare your life. But any further aggression and you will never return to your family."

Cyan wiped the blood off his face. "You treacherous scoundrel. No better than Kefka, you broke the rules of war; I curse thee for eternity!" he spat.

A lesser man might have moved to strike Cyan, if not slay the defeated knight where he stood. But this was Leo Christophe.

"King Edgar," Leo turned away. "I asked a question. Goodwill deserves a response in kind; it would benefit you greatly to assist me."

Edgar folded his arms. "Our negotiations were in their last stage, another week and this would be a bloodless victory. You broke your word; there's no reason to trust you."

Leo had a sad look upon his face. Instead of speaking his mind as he commonly did, Leo deliberated his words carefully. His hesitation only confirmed Edgar's fear: there was no honour left within the Empire.

"Captain, restrain the prisoners and prepare for transport," Leo decided at last. His eyes met Edgar's, regret upon his face. "Our Lord and Emperor shall determine their fate."

Edgar closed his eyes in shame. He held his hands together as they bound his wrists.

"Celes..."

His heart sank. Edgar could turn his head, but that merely enabled him to watch impotently as Leo strolled up to the injured thief -- still upon his back and delirious from blood-loss. They conversed softly. Normally stone-faced, Leo's expression was first of disappointment, then of cautious scepticism, and finally of horrified realization.

So it was that Edgar's last ace, the only trick he had left, was given away. At that moment, he knew that all hope was lost.

The Empire had won.

---

All of Vector was awash with cheer. The Empire had been victorious; the barbarians of the north had been brought to their knees. That alone was cause for celebration but to see their champion return to the Imperial Capital, that was enough to incite riots. Drink flooded the streets of Vector. Man or woman, soldier or civilian, it did not matter. Everyone danced with joy as bards and minstrels sang ballads of heroism.

_The Victorious March North_ was already composed.

Trumpets sounded as Leo entered the Imperial Palace, where he was greeted by a throng of the highest-ranking men and women from all corners of the Empire. Generals, governors, and nobles alike showered him with praise. He was beyond popular, for who could not love a victorious hero?

Leo stood tall in the depths of the Imperial Palace as the Emperor himself praised his success. It was a long speech, one that Leo endured for he knew the particulars of politics.

"-stand before you, Leo Christophe, General of Generals, and we are humbled in your presence. I say this not as Emperor, but as a son of Vector. The Empire is indebted to you. Your service shall be rewarded."

Emperor Gestahl spread his arms and smiled at all those gathered in his Throne Room.

"You shall have a Triumph!"

Leo rose to embrace the Emperor as was tradition and the chamber erupted in applause.

---

It was deep into the night before Leo found time to speak with the Emperor alone. Upon the ramparts of the Imperial Palace, Gestahl welcomed Leo into his inner sanctum.

"My liege," Leo dropped to one knee.

"Enough of that," Gestahl's voice was bitter. "I tire of politics. What is so important that you must disturb my rest?"

"I come with grave news. Your life is at risk, sire."

"All our enemies are dead or imprisoned below," Gestahl chuckled softly as he gazed at the full moon. "Who remains?"

Leo took a deep breath. "General Chere, sire."

"What?" Gestahl spun around. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Never."

"Tread carefully, Leo," Gestahl stepped out of the moonlight and back into his chamber. He closed the gates before addressing the matter. "What is your evidence?"

"A man named Locke Cole. He is a Returner-"

"A _Returner_?" Gestahl hissed. "You would challenge the loyalty of a fellow general, _Celes_ of all people, on the word of our enemy?"

"My liege, he has assured me that she entered Narshe under false pretences; a violation of your orders! She was the one in command of the airship which struck Castle Doma, destroying the treaty that would have guaranteed us Doma's obedience."

"I heard of your negotiations," Gestahl frowned disapprovingly.

"Victory without blood, my liege. But the circumstances and evidence against her, as well as her airship, these things must be addressed!"

"If it was indeed her," Gestahl growled. "My patience grows thin, even for you, Leo."

"The Returner knew of the radio. He claims that Celes was speaking into such a device in order to escape my grasp. My men have verified that her airship abruptly changed course, just as my men prepared to capture the traitors-"

"Your staff has confirmed that those men were traitors; deserters who would slay Celes rather than assist her."

"But the radio, sire. How could a Returner have seen such a thing? Even I have only heard of it in passing, and certainly never seen it used. Yet Celes would have access."

Gestahl nodded sagely. "This is a breach of security that cannot go unaddressed. But that alone does not prove anything, much less the treachery of one of my most trusted generals."

"I have heard rumours that she has been missing for weeks at a time-"

"And I have heard enough!" Gestahl interrupted with a stern rebuke. "I set foot in South Figaro to address this very matter, when news came that Celes had been stripped of her rank and imprisoned for treachery. Kefka kept her locked up in some revolting dungeon for months before my arrival, without any evidence for such a daring claim. Such arrogance! He will clean chocobo dung for the rest of his life!" Gestahl spat. "I have accompanied her for many weeks. I will tolerate this crusade no longer."

"My liege," Leo bowed his head. "I... did not know."

"Leo, you are my most valued commander. Your opinions I would never ignore but in this, I am disappointed. I had expected discretion on your part."

Silence as he had erred, perhaps unforgivably so.

"Your victory, I will not forget. This night however, we shall never speak of again. Now leave me."

---

A single eye opened. It was not yet time for his daily meal, but someone was coming. He could feel it in the air.

"It's your lucky day, prisoner. You have a visitor."

Though the chain did offer him slack, he did not care to move. After all, he had heard such a comment before, moments before steel batons beat him raw.

The iron door was thrown open with such force that the stone walls trembled. A droplet of water released its hold on the rotting beams above, but he bent his head just far enough out of the way. It splattered beside his foot and scared away the rat happily munching on a grain of rice.

"Hello, _my hero_."

It was not her voice that scared him, but the fact that it was still so alluring. Locke shuddered, but raised his head nonetheless.

Celes smiled sweetly.

Locke moaned. "Here to torture me as well?" he rasped.

"My dear," Celes' warm hand glided over his bruises and came to a rest at the hollow of his back. Her breath sent shivers down his spine.

"I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse."


	6. The Spider's Web

**Chapter the Sixth - The Spider's Web**

"Why should I trust you?" 

Connected to the iron collar about his neck was a chain that ran through the stone. It kept him secured to the wall, but there was just enough slack for him to turn his head. Locke abused the only privilege he had; the dungeon's cold embrace was preferable to Celes' charms. At least the former was honest.

"My dear, you really have no choice," she whispered. Her hand left his bruised flesh.

"I could always die."

A moment passed before Locke realized a witty retort was not in the making. Curious, he turned his head.

Celes was gone and the door to his cell still open.

"Brilliant," Locke mumbled.

She returned a minute later with two escorts. They carried for her a table and stool, as well as a fresh meal. If ever the smell of freshly roasted chicken could cause a man pain, this was it. Locke quickly discovered that willpower alone was not enough to quell the rebellious stomach and its intestinal lieutenants.

"Cruel and unusual," Locke quipped when they were alone once more.

"I'm hungry. I missed my meal today," Celes smiled sweetly before spreading butter over her potatoes.

His stomach growled. "So how's the not-Imperial business working for you?"

Instead of answering, Celes picked up a drumstick, winked, and then proceeded to take small, tantalizing bites. With each nibble, her tongue ran over her full, sensual lips.

"Enough of the cliché!" Locke snapped. A bead of sweat ran down his naked back. "You really think I'd fall for this?"

"It's always about you, isn't it?"

His trousers were soaked with sweat by the time Celes finished her meal. She wiped her hands clean and stood up. "Well, you're terrible company, but I'm feeling generous."

Locke didn't care to answer. He had tried to hang himself on the iron collar, surrendering to the bliss of unconsciousness. Unfortunately, the Empire had spared no expense building this dungeon. Even with no strength in his legs, the shape of the wall supported him just enough so that death was impossible, yet still cause him excruciating pain.

"So, how would you like your freedom?"

"With a side of bacon," Locke deadpanned.

Celes was not laughing. "I'm offering you a chance. The Figaro brothers will endure and that Doman Knight is tougher than he looks, but Banon is old. He might not survive long enough to get executed."

That got Locke's undivided attention. "Gestahl isn't going to kill us, we're too important-"

"You Returners..." Celes sighed. "After Figaro's military collapses, the old man will have no more enemies. He'll execute all five of you at Leo's Triumph; think of the symbolism!" Celes spread her arms and twirled on her heel. "No more compromises, no more treaties, just the Empire."

Suddenly, the air seemed very cold.

"What do you want from me?" Locke gritted his teeth.

"The old man's hidden a crystal in the Tzen Mountains. He thinks it's secret, so there should be no guards. I want you to bring it back to me and in return, I'll save you and your friends."

"And how will you do that?"

"Gestahl trusts me unreservedly. He'll do as I say," Celes folded her arms. "Remember Kefka?"

Locke nodded.

Maniacal joy danced in her eyes. A throaty, depraved laugh assaulted his ears.

"For locking me up in South Figaro-"

Locke scoffed at that.

"-I had him... _fixed_."

He adjusted his legs uncomfortably.

Celes rolled her eyes. "I was talking about his magic."

"_Oh._"

Celes turned away. "You have five weeks to get back here, or else the deal's off," she remarked with a wave of the hand.

"What? That's barely enough time to-"

"Have fun!" she winked before slamming the iron door shut.

"But...!" Locke's questions died on his lips. He tested his chains once more. "How am I supposed to get out?" he screamed.

His only response was her fading footsteps.

---

Solid rock, again. Roaring in anger, he bashed it with his shovel only to have bits of dung fly up into his face.

"How _dare_ that old man do this to me!" Kefka threw the shovel aside. He glared around the empty stables and pointed at one of the many chocobos sleeping peacefully. "Don't you look at me like that," he stamped his foot down into dirt that was far too soft to be just dirt.

"_That's it!_ You're at the top of my list now."

Before he could retrieve his shovel, Kefka's ears perked up to the sound of footsteps. He snuck around to the other side of the stable.

Escorted by two bodyguards, Celes was walking away from the dungeons. A carefree smile was on her face.

Kefka's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

---

The pub was still full despite how deep into the night it was. No surprise, this was Vector. All the benefits of civilization meant day or night, ale would still be fresh and chilled.

Celes' two escorts were sitting at another table while she nursed her mug at the bar. It had been warm for quite a while now and she had heard the bard's song twice already.

"General."

She resisted the instinct to jerk aside; he was seated beside her. His dark cloak and hooded face would have stood out, but at this time of night, there were two others dressed like him.

"You're late," Celes snapped.

"Prudence is necessary."

"And what did you find, mercenary?"

When he had ordered, Celes did not know, but Shadow chose to drink his ale first. "He's in Zozo. I marked his location on the map."

"Map?"

"Inner pocket on your left."

Celes' face went red when she felt the folded parchment in her cloak. "Why didn't you retrieve him like we agreed?" she growled in frustration.

"You didn't pay me to do that," Shadow finished his ale. "My job is done here."

"Sit back down," Celes ordered. "How much do you want?"

"Ten times the usual."

"Done," Celes sighed with relief. "He's not to be harmed. I want him transported to Maranda-"

"Now why would an Imperial General pay so much to kidnap a humble elder from a place like Zozo?"

Celes glared at Shadow but could read nothing in his eyes. "Curiosity is unbefitting of a mercenary."

"And deceit unlike a general; especially one so ambitious, yet cast out of the spotlight by another."

"He deserves it. Doma, Figaro, and the Returners in one single stroke. What masterful _luck_."

The wrinkles around Shadow's eyes deepened. "An odd choice of words."

"I'll double your pay if you just shut up and do your job," Celes growled, thoroughly unnerved by his unusual audacity. She took a swig of her warm ale and grimaced. "You've worked for me long enough to know all I care about is-"

"I decline, Lady General."

"What?" Celes turned to berate him once more.

The stool was empty.

---

Kefka watched Celes leave in a huff. Hidden in the darkness of the corner, he cackled softly before he downed the rest of his mug.

"I was never here."

Kefka stiffened. He could feel the presence behind him, though the steel point held against his neck was also a good indicator.

"Didn't see you at all," he recovered with a good-natured grin. "Nothing here but us drunks."

"Good." As his words faded away, so too did his presence.

Kefka chuckled. He raised his hand.

"Another round!"

---

The morning rays of a grey dawn filtered through the windows and over her bed. Normally it would have woken her, but she was already seated with a half-chewed pencil in her mouth.

"You'll also take the 2nd Airborne as reinforcement, they'll offer all the support you'll need."

"Just one mechanized squadron would be more than enough," the scruffy officer replied confidently.

"Well, I want that nest of criminals obliterated before Figaro falls," Celes tossed her pencil into a glass of cold tea. "The Emperor's going to get a surprise at Leo's Triumph: the whole of the world under Imperial authority. You can do that, right Colonel?"

"Zozo wouldn't last against a single strike force. With five times that number and the army, I'll guarantee their leaders' heads at your door before the month ends."

Celes smiled. "That would ruin the surprise. Just dispose of them normally... but I do have one special request."

"Sir?"

Celes handed over Shadow's map. "There is an old man hiding at the top of this building. I want him before me, unharmed."

"I'll ensure it personally," the officer crisply saluted.

"Thank you, Colonel Sandford. Dismissed."

Celes sighed with relief after the officer left. It had been a long night and she was tired. With her feet resting atop her desk, she closed her eyes for a moment.

The thumping at her door woke her up. "Come in," Celes yawned.

"Long night?"

Even drowsiness fled from this enemy, Celes was instantly attentive as Leo stepped into her quarters.

"What might the Hero of the Empire want so early in the morning?"

Leo leaned against the metal wall. "It's afternoon."

"Oh? Time passes so quickly."

"Last night, the prison was attacked and an entire wing of prisoners freed. You slept through a hectic morning."

Celes pursed her lips. "Terrible news. I guess it's a good thing you're back," she laughed. "Stop looking so grim, Leo, they're just criminals. You act like the Empire's about to collapse or something. Remember? You defeated all our enemies."

"Try to act like a General for once," Leo growled. "I'll be watching you."

He left her room, threat delivered. They both knew that their conversation had not been about professionalism. Leo knew, or at least suspected, that she was acting of her own accord. But this was no friendly hint; this was a declaration of war.

Celes raised her glass in mockery. "To your Triumph, Leo," she smirked. "It's going to be so much _fun_."


	7. Triumphant

**Chapter the Seventh - Triumphant**

"Celes! What brings you all the way down here?"

"Cid," Celes embraced the yellow-coated professor. "It's good to see you again, I really missed you," she held him just long enough for his cheeks to go cherry-red. "I don't suppose Leo's here?"

"I hope not!" he scratched his head nervously. "Generals don't show up unannounced."

"Can't I come down here for something other than business?" Celes clasped her hands together. "Say, to see my favourite scientist?"

His face burned even more. "Celes, I'm... overwhelmed."

The pair strode through the deepest levels of the Magitek Labs, Celes with a slight hop to her steps. She gestured at the tubes of liquid surrounding them. "Are all of them drained? They look terrible."

A sigh. "On the verge of death, actually. There's not much I can do; it's not like I can release them and let them heal on their own. If they didn't kill us leaving, the Emperor would."

Celes pretended to pout. "And here I was, hoping for one that wasn't so pathetic."

"What would be the use of that?"

"Didn't you hear? The Figarian Navy finally surrendered."

"We don't exactly get news from around the world down here," Cid gestured at all the pale scientists busy studying their subjects. "Some days, I don't even see the sun."

"Well the Triumph's scheduled for Leo now, but I wanted to present Emperor Gestahl with a present for that celebration."

"Oh?" Cid was genuinely curious.

Celes placed a finger on her lip. "Well, I thought we could show how great the Empire is, and how far Magitek has gone. We could take one of the Espers in its prime and drain them in a single shot. He'd love to see it in action."

"Hmm, well that's certainly possible. Seems like a waste... but I could probably hook up-"

Celes waited patiently as Cid vanished into his own world. He babbled on and on about technology, but she knew that her gamble had paid off.

"-would be really easy. We'd have to do the pair together though, but-"

"Pair?" Celes echoed.

Cid nodded. "Yes, there's two that we haven't bothered with yet. Being opposing elements, it-"

"Two?" Celes' eyes widened. She couldn't believe her luck. "That's great!" she hugged Cid tightly once more.

Cid laughed. "The Emperor will get quite the show. He's lucky to have you caring for him so much."

"Not as lucky as I am to have you," Celes grinned. "This will be the best surprise ever! Let's keep it a secret just between us."

Cid gazed at his feet timidly, clearly embarrassed from all the attention. "Anything for you," he mumbled.

---

"Celes!"

His voice irritated her more with each passing day. Taking a deep breath, Celes turned back towards the Magitek Factory. "Leo! And here I thought you were dead; you haven't bothered me for nearly three hours."

"What were you doing in there?"

"Paperwork, you wouldn't be interested," Celes kept up her disgusting bubbly-sweet routine. Leo had been spying on her for weeks and although there was nothing to fear, it was certainly _annoying_. "I spoke with Professor Cid about his research."

"Of course. You were determining how the Returner found out about the radio."

Celes was taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"The Emperor and I discussed what the Returners saw aboard the airship in Doma. I assume he asked you to determine how prototypes fell into the hands of lowly deserters. After all, they were your men once."

Ignoring the slight was easy, but Celes' heart began to race. "No, the Emperor didn't ask me," she answered truthfully.

"Curious," Leo did not sound like he was. "It is your purview."

Celes felt a chill run down her back. She glared at Leo, irritated by his tests. "What have you done?"

"I told him you are a traitor."

_And he believes me_. Celes maintained her best poker face -- for the first time, she was glad she knew Setzer -- while her mind spun. She had to tread carefully here; Leo was naive, but that only made him a deadlier opponent. Her every reaction was being judged.

But Gestahl had not moved against her. Leo was also accusing her under broad daylight, alone without bodyguards.

_Of course._

"Leo, I held you in higher esteem than this. Telling the Emperor without a shred of evidence must've damaged your credibility," Celes remarked casually.

The muscle beneath his eye twitched just the slightest.

"I look up to you, everyone does," Celes continued with growing confidence. "I would never have put you on the same level as Kefka. Why would you say such hurtful things about me? I thought we were friends..."

"You seem awfully confident considering the weight of my allegation," Leo reprimanded sternly. "Others would defend themselves, rather than act with such arrogant indignation."

Celes ignored the impulse to gut him, smiling sweetly instead. "Why would I defend myself? This is just a grasp for power. The Emperor's already proven he'll stop these political games; look at how he saved me from Kefka. And more importantly, I'm not a traitor, so there's nothing to defend."

His finger was inches from her nose. "You _are_ a traitor," Leo judged. "And I swear that your life will be a short one."

Celes watched him strut away like pompous minion he was. Nothing more than empty threats, she knew he would not move openly again until he had evidence.

And then it would be too late.

---

It was the day of the Triumph and Vector was overflowing with citizens partying. Edgar could smell the ale flowing like water and hear music drowning out the world. It was not the way he thought he would die.

"Stop it. Show some dignity."

Edgar sighed as Sabin continued to struggle against the chains. They were surrounded by over a hundred soldiers, men that Edgar was thankful for. They alone held back the tide of angry, vile Imperial citizens. Yet his brother was trying to free himself, a course of action that was just as sure to lead to their demise.

One of the guards had noticed Sabin. An angry scowl came from the imposing soldier, his long white hair barely contained by his brown helmet. It made him look ready to burst at any second.

"Sabin," Edgar snapped again.

"Leave him be," Banon declared. The four men were chained together and Banon was on the far side of the two bickering brothers. "You should find peace with your family. Remember? We're all about to be executed."

"Not all of us," Cyan remarked bitterly.

After their capture, Sabin had been adamant that Locke fought heroically against Leo's personal guard. Cyan's disagreement was equally vehement. To imagine Locke had been thrown into a flurry of bolts and serendipitously saved Celes, it was a dubious story to say the least.

And of the five captured, only four were being paraded through Vector to their executions.

"He didn't sell us out," Sabin defended his comrade at arms.

Edgar wasn't so sure.

The Imperial Palace loomed before them. Perhaps another hour in the parade enduring the scorn of thousands, and then their lives would be over.

Then he saw her. _Celes_.

"Cyan, look."

"The witch," the Doman Knight hissed. "In the open as the Imperial General she is; your friend is worse than a liar, he betrayed us all."

Edgar was about to respond when Celes disappeared back into the crowd. Following her shape -- already difficult to track amidst a crowd of thousands -- was a shadow he had endured many times.

Kefka.

"I have a plan," Edgar declared.

---

Within the Imperial Palace, Leo waited patiently as the nobles continued to shower him with praise. Everyone of note was here now, even the Generals that had been on campaigns when he had last returned. He recognized many of his former friends, officers that promoted him or those he had raised in turn. All three provinces were represented, as were the eldest houses of the Imperial Core.

It should have been a day of celebration, but Leo was worried about Celes. She alone was missing from the throng inside the Imperial Palace, the Imperial Special Forces commander and well-known Magitek Knight.

Leo broke away from the sycophantic nobles. Disgusted with everything, he exited the palace and stood before the great stairway. Below, executioners sharpened their axes while the whole of the Imperial Guard marched in orderly ranks. It seemed every soldier near Vector was gathered outside; heightened security to protect the many important guests inside the palace.

So why was he so nervous?

Leo sighed. Perhaps it was shame: he had never desired King Edgar's execution, and Sir Cyan was only a loyal servant of the dead Doman King. With their deaths, he might never sleep soundly again.

"General."

Leo spun around. "Staff Sergeant?"

"Sir, I know it's a bad time and-"

"What's the matter?" Leo interrupted his trusted aide.

"Cid is dead, sir."

_"No," _Leo inhaled sharply. "And the factory?"

"Intact. We have a squad combing the facility, but it'll be tomorrow before we can audit and discover if anything was stolen. Perhaps we can reassign your personal reserves? All manpower is gathered out there, even the palace guard," the Staff Sergeant pointed at the execution stage.

A shiver ran down his spine. "Oh no."

"Sir?"

_"Celes,"_ Leo hissed. "We must protect the Emperor!"


	8. Et tu?

_Dedicated to Snow Duchess, who is an inspiration for this Chapter.  
_

**Chapter the Eighth - Et tu?**

The lights went out. 

Surprised, but not unprepared, torches sparked alive and illuminated Leo's imposing frame. A scant twenty soldiers had accompanied him to the Imperial Throne Room, and they all watched the shadows apprehensively.

"Sir..."

"Deserted," Leo eased their worries. "Sergeant, take two men and secure the area. The rest with me, we must succour our liege."

Leo sheathed his sword and took a torch of his own. He led the way back through the dark corridors of the palace. The flames of their torches reflected off the metallic walls, but did little to pierce the gloom.

"No lights anywhere," someone complained before being hushed by his peers.

Leo would not fault his men, not at such a time. Celes was merely taking advantage of their foolishness, securing the palace by focusing on the walls at the expense of the interior. The Imperial Guard had failed their primary objective.

"Sir," a pair of fleet-footed men appeared out of the shadows. "The Emperor's in his quarters."

Leo gritted his teeth. "Then she'll be there."

"No signs ye-"

The palace rumbled for a moment, but that was enough for the General. Lightning ran down the length of Leo's sword, metal and thunder announcing his intentions.

"To the Emperor!"

They charged down the pitch-black halls with reckless abandon, half a century of soldiers armed to the teeth. As cold metal floors gave way to soft velvet, Leo held up a hand. The formation was assumed in an instant, line upon line of shield and blade spanning wall to wall.

Faint sunlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling as they neared Celes' personal quarters. Walls were reduced to piles of rubble and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air.

Three shapes hovered over a fourth, pinned to the ground by steel through her legs.

"We have her."

---

Sabin glanced around nervously. The gates of the Imperial Palace drew closer -- masked executioners and brown leather innumerable awaited them as scores of cheering citizens awaited their deaths.

"You know bro, I hope this plan of yours comes together soon."

"Hey! Keep it down or else," snapped a white-haired, yet youthful, guard.

"Or else what?" Sabin goaded. "You'll kill us faster?"

The guard's wink caught him by surprise. He was stunned speechless.

"Sabin, on your left!" Edgar hissed.

He looked the other way. Standing in the shadow of a secluded alley, holding the hands of children just in front of her, was Celes.

---

"General! What's this?" Gestahl's face was red from more than the torchlight. He broke past his personal guards and an entourage of portly nobles.

Leo directed men into the adjacent rooms. "My liege, Celes-"

"Her _again_?"

Leo's response was to stride through the walls of men imprisoning Celes, but his smile faded when he saw her timid form; even her hands were trembling. At his command, one of the men grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head up.

The prisoner certainly looked like her, but that was it. There was no defiance, no contempt, not even a frigid glare.

"You're not Celes," Leo whispered.

Tears ran down her face as she gazed at him in awe. She nodded gingerly.

His assessment came too late, Leo heard the screams from the adjacent room. Metal clanged as dozens turned to face the new threat.

"Reveal yourselves!" Gestahl ordered from beside Leo.

Steam rose from the hair of the woman as she pulled off her hood. Underneath the torchlight, her blue-hued skin seemed demonic, and a chilly mist swept past her feet and into the ranks of Imperial soldiers.

Gestahl's eyes narrowed. _"You."_

Dozens of soldiers clutched at their throats in vain as thousands of fine, icy fragments shredded their insides. Blood bubbled out of their mouths as they collapsed; their dying breaths wholly agonizing.

With a cry of anguish, lightning erupted from Leo's sword as he charged into the mist. Those still standing joined him -- a final defiant stand -- while rippling strands of electricity tore the metallic walls apart and slammed into both figures.

But the second figure raised his cane and impossibly, the lightning twisted back towards Leo.

---

_"They are both there,"_ came a hot, fiery voice that reverberated through her mind. _"She sees them."_

Celes' smile grew wider. She let the kids go -- to their great disappointment -- and stepped into the shadows of the alley. Her hand clutched around a glistening crystal hidden within her cloak, its perfection marred by a crack running down its center.

"Then as I promised, it's time for you to reunite with an old friend."

The crystal began to heat up.

---

Unlike the thousands, Edgar was not watching as Banon was led to his execution. Instead, he was ticking down the seconds.

And then the ground suddenly slammed into Edgar's back.

He moaned in pain as waves of heat washed over him. Edgar stumbled to his feet.

An inferno had engulfed the Imperial Palace, stone and metal melting as fireballs rose into the sky. Those upon the stairs disappeared in flickers of white flame.

"Great job Edgar!" someone screamed in his ear.

Edgar snapped out of his trance. The guards around them were unconscious; not just from the explosion, judging from the looks on both Sabin and Cyan's faces. The rest of the courtyard was a stampede of thousands upon thousands of drunken, panicky civilians fleeing the intensifying blaze. Even the military could not hold back that tide.

"Let's go!" It was the white-haired guard from before.

"Who?"

"Returner! Here to save you!" the man gestured to the stage, where Banon was being led away by a pudgy soldier.

Another cluster of explosions sent them diving to the ground. Flaming debris rained down as fierce heat burned their skin, even from this distance.

"Nice job bro!" Sabin congratulated.

Instead of arguing, Edgar glanced back at the palace. It was melting into a sea of molten lava as thick plumes of black smoke rose into the sky. Hovering above the inferno was a red-feathered bird, its wings tipped with flame, as a column of fire arced over it.

"An escape route's already prepared," the white-haired guard yelled. "Follow me!"

---

Celes led a dozen of her most trusted soldiers towards the palace. Her sword was out and she struck down two gangly fools too stupid to make way for her.

The Imperial Palace was nothing more than a molten pool and the air in the courtyard was not just shimmering with heat, it was undulating back and forth like waves of an ocean. Even the walls were beginning to melt and they could stand against Magitek. Nothing could survive that.

"Where's the Emperor?" she halted before the courtyard. "Who's responsible for this?"

Something stirred at her feet. A soldier, his face burned off by the intense flames, pointed at the burning execution stage.

"Returners," someone growled over her shoulder.

The rest of the military had arrived now, small groups of her black-leather Special Forces as well as hundreds of the Imperial Guard. Some two-dozen Magitek Armors had gathered and judging by the tremors, dozens more were storming through the streets of Vector. All eyes were now on the general standing beneath the Imperial Gates, behind her the still blazing remains of their leaders.

"Major Collins, I want Vector cordoned off and the Returners killed on sight. Prepare teams to enter the palace-"

"We can't even get past the walls!"

"Then get Armors!" Celes snapped, acting her part. "We must find the Emperor!"

"General Chere," an older soldier wearing the black-trimmed leather of the Imperial Guard approached her. "The Emperor is dead."

"That's treason, Colonel," Celes hissed at the unexpected opposition.

"The Emperor is dead! As ranking officer, you must take command!"

A murmur rippled through the men, but this was better than Celes had ever hoped. This was no mere subordinate, but a high-ranking officer that she had no legitimate command over. That the Imperial Guard had just delegated her with supreme power was telling enough.

"Just until we find the Emperor," Celes acted reluctant and stubborn.

"Until we find the Emperor," saluted an officer too experienced to argue.

This moment, the one that would forever mark her ascension to the Throne, was interrupted by a laugh Celes had never imagined she would hear again. His condescending little chuckle, offensive and effeminate, echoed through the disaster-stricken streets of Vector.

"What an act!" Kefka sat atop a wagon on its side, applauding while he laughed.

"You?" Celes groaned.

"What stagecraft! Such drama! I almost believed it too."

"I don't have the time for this, Major Collins, arrest him. We'll let the Emperor decide his fate."

Silence.

_"Major."_

Kefka chuckled. "Major. Be a good little boy."

Celes spun around -- a spell on her lips -- just as the blow caught her across the face. Ignoring the taste of blood, she tripped Collins and went for her sword.

Stars exploded into view as something smashed into the back of her head. _Traitors, all of them,_ but there was little time to think as she fended off their mailed gauntlets. Her fist dislocated one's jaw and with lethal precision, her steel-toed boot ensured another would never have children.

They fell upon her relentlessly, wave after wave of faceless dark leather. The hilt of a sword drove the wind out of her gut, but forcing her to double over worked against them. Celes drew her knife in a flash, blood splattering across her cheek when steel opened flesh. Still overwhelmed, her knife clattered to the ground as her arm was brutally twisted. She finally cried out in pain.

Kefka laughed and laughed.

As she pitched forward, blows rained down without mercy. A vicious shot to the chin sent her crashing to the ground.

And still he laughed.


	9. Crossroads

**Chapter the Ninth - Crossroads**

Edgar could still hear the chaos as they were pulled out of the sewers of Vector. The uproar was just as before, but stricken with terror and malevolence. An angry red glow came from the center of the city; the scorching blaze of the Imperial Palace's funeral pyre. 

"That way," the portly man pointed across the sky-bridges.

They hurried along the narrow street, ignored by those huddled in the alcoves. Edgar glared at the pair skeptically.

"Name's Wedge," the white-haired man offered. "He's Biggs."

Edgar saw Banon shrug. "Those aren't your real names, are they?"

"No offence," Wedge answered as they crossed the bridge. "But it's safer this way."

Cyan's expression soured even more than usual. Edgar was just as suspicious, but they needed the two men to escape. "How do we leave?"

"By chocobo. We've made arrangements at a stable and with the palace blazing, you'll have no problems leaving the city," Wedge pointed down the street past a cluster of houses.

An explosion roared throughout Vector, causing Edgar to turn back. Even with sky-high buildings in the way, he could see fireballs engulfing another hideous demon. It was not the bird, but some sort of horned beast.

Turning around, he smacked into Locke.

Edgar dove to the cobblestone as Locke hopped over, the two men swearing at each other as they fought for balance. Edgar barely succeeded, only to see Cyan draw his stolen blade.

"You traitorous dog-"

Locke slid around the legs of the rotund Biggs. In a flash, his blade was pressed to the portly man's throat. "Who are you?" he screamed wildly.

With a wrinkled brow, Edgar realized that Locke was not threatening them; those beady eyes were on Wedge.

"Locke, calm down!" Sabin had gotten in Cyan's way. "Those guys are Returners-"

"No they aren't!" Locke snapped. "I know this one," his blade pressed closer to Biggs' throat. "He ambushed me and killed Maria!"

"Maria?" Edgar echoed.

"The opera singer! The one that looks like Celes!"

Edgar exchanged a concerned look with Banon, who decided to step in. "Locke, we've known each other for years. This isn't the time, we need to get away from the Empire."

Locke eyes darted to Wedge. "Stop that!"

Wedge froze in the middle of reaching into his leather vest. "Buddy, you're insane. We _just_ saved your friends' lives."

"You two are working for her, I know it."

"Hypocritical words, traitor," Cyan was trying to force his way past Sabin.

"What, me? I almost died trying to save your lives! All of a sudden, hell decides to claim the Empire and I'm scrambling to find needles in a burning haystack-"

"Where were you anyways?"

"Edgar? _You're_ questioning me? What about these two?"

"What about them? They just saved us!"

His knife pressed even harder against Biggs' skin. "You don't even know who they are and you still trust them?"

"Locke, Edgar," Banon's voice was soothingly calm. "We can discuss this later. The Empire will be coming after us."

Reminded of the imminent threat, Edgar's heart began to race. "Locke, let Biggs go. Once we're at the safe house-"

"Forget it! I'm going back to spit on Gestahl's body."

"Locke-"

"You guys are alive, that's all that matters," Locke pulled Biggs with him as he retreated. "If you're not going to believe me, _fine_, your funeral. I'm going to make sure the old man's dead, once and for all."

"Revenge isn't worth your life, Locke!" Edgar shouted. "You need to let her go!"

"Really?" Locke pushed Biggs forward just as Cyan charged. "Why don't _you_ try it sometime!"

Cyan threw Biggs out of his way and ran after Locke. Edgar followed, but the pair skidded to a halt when they saw the empty alleyway.

"He's gone."

"And so must we," Banon noted.

---

The further they ran, the more confounded the situation became. His sense of uneasiness had brought him alongside of Cyan, staying far away from Biggs and Wedge. There was just something wrong about... _everything_.

And then a chill ran down his back.

"Wedge," Edgar gestured at the second sun behind them. "Back there, why'd you tell me I did a great job?"

The Returner had removed his helmet, white-hair sparkling behind him as they sprinted. "I don't remember what I said. The explosions were a huge shock. I thought I was dead for a moment."

"I remember exactly what you did: you congratulated me."

"That was me," Sabin pointed out. "I thought this was all your plan?"

"Not in the slightest!" Edgar snapped. "But _you_-" he pointed at Wedge, "-screamed great job."

"I don't remember... and watch where you're running," Wedge kept his eyes on the road ahead.

Edgar skidded to a stop. "No, I think I've had enough. Cyan, these two are working for Celes."

Sabin might have argued, but Cyan had unhesitatingly served royalty for a lifetime. Without a question, Cyan's blade was between the four of them and the pair of interlopers.

"Did some of Locke's craziness rub off on you?" Wedge's eyes watched the tip of Cyan's sword. "We _saved_-"

"This was Celes' plan all along," Edgar deduced. "You two screamed loud enough to make sure everyone thinks it's my plan, that the Returners were responsible for annihilating the Empire's gathered leadership!"

"That's quite a leap in logic," Banon remarked. "But I've never heard of either of them."

"And Locke said you killed a girl he was protecting," Sabin glared.

"There's no escape plan. Celes wants the scapegoats dead so we'll never talk," Edgar accused.

Biggs' eyes darted down the road.

Edgar followed. "Oh _shit_."

It was a mob; thousands of Imperial civilians armed with tools of their trade.

"Returners!"

"They killed the Emperor!"

"They slaughtered General Leo!"

"Kill them all!"

Biggs and Wedge both slapped on their helmets.

"Well it's been fun," Wedge grinned. "But it's time to cash out while we're ahead."

Cyan darted forward, but the two men were already on the run for their supporting crowd.

"Now what?" Sabin gestured at the narrow street. Buildings hemmed them in on both sides.

"Now we die with honour," Cyan faced the massive crowd. His blade glinted under the sunlight.

Sabin stood next to Cyan, the two men in the center of the road. "Right beside you."

"I've already made my peace," Banon leaned against a door. He jumped aside when it opened.

"I hear words of defeat."

Edgar's mouth dropped. "_Shadow_?"

The dark cloaked man gestured at the gloom behind him. "Your passage has already been bartered. Save the heroism for another day."

Cyan glowered suspiciously, but Sabin cheerily followed Shadow. The three men shrugged. They had left nothing to lose.

---

Her hearing was the first thing that came back. She forced her eyes closed while her blood simmered with rage.

"_I_ run things, Colonel," Kefka's unmistakable voice assaulted her ears. "Now _kill_ her, or get out of my way!"

"Bind her," it was the Imperial Guardsman. "Her trial-"

"Trial?" Kefka hissed.

"Trial," the Colonel stood his ground. "And restrain her magic."

"Sir, General Christophe ordered everyone with even the slightest training in-"

"Right, the palace," an exasperated sigh. "Just make sure she's unconscious, and tighten that gag!"

Even the Imperial Guard had thrown in their lot with Kefka. _So be it._

Celes' eyes snapped open. The gag around her mouth was choking her, but her eyes locked with the Colonel's.

His horrified gasp was the last of his life.

Bits of grey matter splattered across Kefka's face as men's skulls exploded. Those holding onto Celes found sapphire flames devouring their flesh clean off the bone. They died staring at their own exposed skeleton.

The ropes around her wrists shattered as soldiers charged. She spat out her gag.

_"Insects."_

A wave of her hand and their bodies splattered against unyielding brick. She sneered as she twirled around, taking the time to point at each individual soldier as a beam of blue light shot forth. With each blast, another of her most-trusted soldiers shattered into a thousand pieces of flash-frozen flesh.

Major Collins was last, and she had something special for him.

Forgiveness.

He whirled through the air and rammed through the side of a wagon. Though his limbs were twisted like a pretzel, he alone would live.

A blast of crimson inferno tore past her and burned through a building. Magitek Armors towered above, cannons flaring to life as blast after blast of elemental magic bore down on her lithe figure.

The runes of her blade shimmered.

Her skin was white as she _willed_ the Armors out of existence. They crumpled, exploded, or vaporized into thin air, all while dozens of their brothers belched forth energy to level mountains. Soon nothing but blinding crimson light surrounded her, like the center of the sun and just as hot.

Her eyes glowed with the magic they threw at her.

With a scream, it was over. Mist rose from the corpses of the army that opposed her. Armors or soldiers, their shadows were forever frozen into the surrounding buildings. She smiled at the icicles hanging off their frosted faces.

"You are _so_ violent."

Celes glared at Kefka, the coward resurfacing at last. "So you _did_ survive."

Kefka's chuckle irritated her. She gestured, but nothing happened.

"Huh... was that it?"

Celes laughed back at him. Her hand rose to the heavens.

A building undulated into existence behind her, twin armored towers slanted with a great maw in between. It _moved_, eyes of the purest white light surrounded by blessed white and red armor. Holy energy gathered, brighter than even the blaze of the palace.

It shrieked in horror as star-speckled darkness washed over it, swallowing the Esper alive.

Celes spun around, chills running down her back as she recognized the shape appearing out of the inferno. He strode through the oceans of fire without a care.

_"Gestahl."_

The Emperor stopped beneath the frame of the Imperial Gates. "I'm disappointed in you, Celes."

He tossed an old, twisted cane to the ground.

"So _very_ disappointed."


	10. The Duel

**Chapter the Tenth - The Duel**

The Imperial Palace was a molten sea of lava and even the flawless black stone of its walls were beginning to melt. However, that inferno was nothing compared to the rage simmering beneath Celes. 

Emperor Gestahl looked unharmed, having miraculously walked out of the fires of hell. His layers of silk robes were intact, as was the finely groomed white beard that ran halfway down his chest. Not even a flake of ash could be seen upon his royal clothes.

Celes sneered at Kefka. The snivelling coward stood his ground for once, a smile on his face that irritated her to the very core. She responded with a confident grin. "Of course."

A burst of blue light struck Kefka, and as quickly as the spell had blasted from her finger, so too did it shatter upon a thin green aura about him.

"You knew all along," Celes accused Gestahl with frigid glare.

"I suspected," the Emperor sighed. "I _truly_ wanted to believe in you, Celes -- you are like a daughter to me -- but you have betrayed my every confidence."

Celes folded her arms. "When?" her icy voice demanded.

"I grew more confident as time passed, more and more details that stuck out as unlike you. But when Leo made his accusations, that was when I knew without a doubt. He was a fine general, loyal to a fault, but we both knew he was a gullible one. That _he_ would say such things," Gestahl's hooded eyes lowered to the frosted ground. "I will miss him."

"You heartless bastard. If you cared, why'd you wait so many weeks?" Celes demanded. "Leo confessed ages ago."

Gestahl's chuckle was low and in many ways, more condescending than even Kefka's. "You're a smart one, Celes. I raised you to be nothing less."

She scoffed. "So you wanted those bootlickers gone just as much as I did."

"You outperformed my every expectation," Gestahl smiled with a hint of pride. "I watched your plan unfold and really, I am impressed. The Returners were a masterstroke, I have no doubt you had your hand behind _that_ affair as well. You slaughtered all your enemies and twisted the chaos to your benefit. Unfortunately, you made one critical error."

Celes glared at her only mistake.

"Now I have complete authority. No more politics, petty scheming or even dissent. Never again will I have to host banquets to convince my own generals to follow me; _you_ saw to that. I should thank you."

"So all you have left is him?" Celes pointed at Kefka.

"He never betrayed me."

Celes laughed. "Old man, _this_ is why you're unfit to rule. Putting the army in the hands of a clown like him-"

"Why you miserable blockhead!" Kefka snapped.

"-makes you the biggest fool of all."

Gestahl straightened, his imposing stature magnified by the blood-red silks that cloaked him. "It's over, Celes. Even with all your scheming, do you really think slaughtering your own men, the Imperial Guard, and summoning an Esper will endear you to the people? _My people?_"

"Yeah, that was a good play," Celes' skin turned pale. "Only one problem, _old man_."

"What, _child?_"

From between her hands sparked a spiralling blue flame. Celes spun around, an unholy wave of blue inferno blasting forth and engulfing Kefka where he stood. A shockwave threatened to tear her off her feet as light shot into the sky, mixing with the thick swirling dark clouds. Wave after wave of icy stones battered the ground as a blizzard swallowed Vector whole.

_"You can't kill me."_

Out of the corner of her eye, Celes saw Kefka dash aside. No matter, he was insignificant in comparison to...

Red silk slid off his arms and into fresh snow. Gestahl was not a small man; he maintained the shape of the fighting general he once was. Muscles rippled as the Emperor flexed.

He sneered.

Snow evaporated into a fine mist as an inferno flared _through_ the Emperor. It rose into the sky, a wall of liquid flame that came crashing down.

Celes' eyes glowed with power. _Come to me,_ she commanded.

Spikes exploded through the waterfall of hell, icicles as large as Armors ripping through the ground as they bore down upon Gestahl. Air wavered with heat as hellfire licked at Celes' arms, liquid flames splattering off the frosty cobblestone. Steam turned to ice in mid-air as the blizzard intensified.

A column of fire tunnelled through the waves of snow, breaking upon a thin yellow shell encompassing Celes. Through the space it left behind, Gestahl's laughter beckoned.

The runes woven into her blade glowed with a bright blue aura. A cluster of flying icicles forced Gestahl to the ground.

And then Celes was upon him.

---

Lungs burned with every gasp, his muscles threatened to seize up as his feet nearly pounded through the thin floorboards. With a cry, Locke kicked open a flimsy wooden door.

A fireball spiralled through the window.

He slammed the door shut as glass exploded, diving just out of the way as the door blew off its hinges. Flames licked at his rear as he took off once more.

The building was trembling.

"Oh yeah, find a high perch for a better view. Brilliant thinking," Locke growled. He lowered his shoulder and burst into another room. Like every other window, this one was covered in frost. Broken panes had let in the storm and snow had piled all the way to the ceiling.

With a curse, Locke turned away. He slipped on a patch of ice.

A spray of glass shards flew over his head as the windows exploded. _It_ rolled through the snow, talons tearing through floor and ceiling as it finally came to a stop at his feet.

Locke gaped at the bird, it was almost the size of the room. He picked up one of the blue feathers -- it was as large as his arm! The red and white ones were no different.

A hideous shrill brought Locke to his knees. His trousers were instantly soaked, not from melted ice, but from warm lifeblood.

His teeth were chattering from the chill as he looked into the eyes of the Esper from Narshe. Its beak was open, its last breath expelled in defiance.

Locke glanced hesitantly into the storm.

---

Columns of fire twisted above them, sprinkling ash beneath as it blazed a trail through the thickening blizzard. Rain and hail fell into a sea of liquid flame, only to rise back into the sky as scorching clouds of steam.

Gestahl stood amidst the pits of hell -- his feet resting upon molten cobblestone -- and with a sigh, backhanded a cluster of icicles away.

"You and your kind are nothing to me," the Emperor shouted. Not that he thought her spirit could be broken by words, but her pride was what he sought to injure.

The churning magma hardened in a flash, fires fed from power unimaginable fanned away. A chill breeze washed over him.

_A distraction._

Gestahl spun around as Celes exploded through a wall of flame. He gripped her sword by the blade, flames erupting from his palm as he held her at bay with a single hand.

"Before I kill you," he hissed, "I want to know _why_. Why betray me, Celes!"

Her skin was ashen and her hair equally so. Her breaths sapped the warmth out of the air. "Don't you dare call me that!"

Gestahl twisted away from a blast of sapphire flame. His fingers sank into her sword and with a grunt, tossed them both into the nearest building. She bounced off the wall with a sickening thud, twisted blade clattering off the ground as she willed herself to stand.

Celes was at her limit, but Gestahl knew that he was close as well. It was time for things to end.

"I raised you with all my heart. This Empire, I would leave in your hands. Why, Celes?"

Her eyes blazed with energy. "Because you raped and pillaged my brethren! Because you stole me out of the arms of my dying mother, and because _you killed my father_, you godless bastard! "

Blue flames rippled from her hands to be pushed back by Gestahl's crimson power. Gouts of fire burst away from the clash of elements, effortlessly tunnelling through building and ground alike... just as he planned.

"I always feared you were too smart for your own good," the Emperor shook his head. "I love you like a daughter, Celes."

Celes' skin was now completely white and her hair a frosty blue. With a chilling laugh, Gestahl could hear the wave of icy spikes behind him.

_"My father named me Terra!"_

With seconds before his doom, he pointed behind her.

An explosion erupted, steel supports already burned away by the clash of elements. Celes turned around in horror as the shadow of a building loomed over her lithe, pale body. Even though she had no recourse, even though it was clearly over, she did not accept her end.

Celes' hand extended into the heavens and a wave of energy blasted into the falling debris -- one final act of rebellion. Then thousands of tons of stone and metal fell upon her, tearing through her thin shields of magic and breaking her body beneath. Flames roared over the still-falling rubble, a funeral pyre amidst a frozen Vector.

"Ding dong, the witch is dead!"

Gestahl silenced Kefka with a deadly glare. He fought to stand upright despite total exhaustion, for Kefka was a simpleton who only understood strength.

"Gather the Imperial Guard and find me the Returners."

"Not much of them left," Kefka chuckled.

"Just do it Kefka. I will not tolerate losing the rebels."

Gestahl watched Kefka leave, and then turned back to the funeral pyre.

"I have already lost enough today," he whispered.

---

Locke rolled from beneath the protection of a steel beam, bandana over his mouth as he struggled to crawl out of the collapsed building. Flames licked at his bruised and battered body, but he refused to give in. The smoke was getting especially bad now, there must have been quite a fire burning.

And he was stuck beneath it.

His bloody palms stung, having been cut apart by metal shards sticking out of the debris. The rest of his body seemed to be fine, though he could not feel his legs. But he was moving, so Locke put that thought out of his mind as he continued to crawl. Pebbles, red-hot metal, bricks, supple skin-

Locke blinked.

It was _her_, eyes closed and lying upon her back. Her face was matted with blood and her leather vest was in tattered pieces. Fresh blood dripped down to her clenched fists.

Celes was dying.

Locke fortified himself with righteous indignation -- the moral high-ground. He put her out of his mind and continued to crawl towards the chill of fresh air.

Every second that passed was filled with doubt. Every foot he crawled was plagued with contempt. He sighed.

"Damn you."

Locke turned back.


	11. A Woman Scorned

**Chapter the Eleventh - A Woman Scorned**

Celes' eyes snapped open. A rickety ceiling fan stared back as it rotated lazily. Light streamed through discoloured blinds and there was just the slightest hint of cinnamon in the air. 

Though every muscle was stiff, she decided to sit upright. A groan escaped her lips as her back protested the sudden movement, but confirmation that she was not imprisoned was reward enough. Old pine floorboards, chairs so rarely used that they looked rife with splinters, and a rusty lantern long since out of oil -- this was someone's hous-

The doorknob turned.

Celes silently sank back into the bed of hay. With her eyes shut, she waited. Step by step, it came closer, and closer...

_Now._

Her arm whipped out, catching him in the stomach as she shot to her feet. Something shattered on the floor while she slammed him onto his back, hand around his throat with enough pressure to choke him to death.

Locke gasped in a vain attempt to breathe.

"You?" Celes shook her head in disbelief. She ran through her mental checklist of her belongings, pleasantly surprised he had not gone through her pockets, much less violated her person.

Locke's eyes were bulging out.

Celes let go of him. She walked to the window and basked in a sunbeam.

"I guess it was stupid of me to expect a thank you," Locke remarked between deep gasps. "Should've learned from the last time."

Celes folded her arms; the countryside seemed familiar. "Where are we, and why are you here?"

"I was bringing you a meal," Locke gestured at the spilled porridge. Its bowl was cracked open.

The subtle scent of warmed milk finally registered with Celes. "That's obvious, but not what I asked," she ignored her growling stomach by glaring at the Returner.

Locke dropped to his knees and began wiping porridge off the floor. Celes felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. He wiped and wiped, quiet and reserved.

"I saved your life."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Why?" she whispered instinctively.

Locke concentrated on cleaning the floor. "I don't know..."

That was an answer she was unprepared for. Fortunately, a soft knock on the door interrupted their awkward moment. "Locke?" asked a voice so timid it was barely capable of penetrating the thin walls.

"I spooked her. Sorry, I'll clean up!"

Celes peeked through the cracks of the door, the familiar mannerisms of a soldier her defence.

"She won't hurt you."

"I can see that. She can't be a day less than sixty," Celes snapped. "Who is she?"

"Diana, a kind lady who was willing to take in a young man and his sick wife," Locke answered coldly. "She has no money, no kids, and her husband must be a decade older than she is." He gestured at the spilled porridge. "This was all she could afford to give."

"Money..." Now that was a new problem.

"Yeah, and I'm broke as well. Enjoy starving for a change, _Your Highness_."

Celes ignored the sarcasm. "How long was I out?"

"Days," Locke sank into the hay-filled bag they called a mattress. "You were in bad shape; if you didn't die overnight from the cold, then you might've caught something nasty. After escaping Vector, I got us as far as I dared."

"You outwitted the army while carrying me, and then manipulated an elderly couple to take us in," Celes felt just the slightest hint of admiration. "I'm impressed."

"And why doesn't that comfort me in the slightest?"

"Entire legions serve my every whim without a word of praise; the only possible answer is that you're an idiot."

"Ah, the _great_ general," Locke's arms were crossed. "Everything goes according to your plans, don't they? Oh wait, Gestahl's _alive_."

The events of the Triumph came crashing down upon her at last. The old man was alive, and she had killed all his enemies for him. Worse, he had outplayed _her_.

Locke was grinning ear-to-ear.

"I've killed for less," Celes snarled.

"You're unarmed and I seriously doubt you're strong enough to use those powers of yours. I watched you fight; I know how much effort it takes."

Celes cocked her head. She waved his knife in front of him.

_"What the-"_ he ducked as the blade whipped high over his head.

"Consider my debt repaid," Celes opened the door and walked out.

"Just don't kill our hosts as you leave," he growled.

Her feet stopped moving. Celes glanced back and saw Locke fetching his knife, utterly uninterested in where she was headed. Despite being the enemy, he had risked his life and watched over her until she was healed. He had even maintained her honour. So this was it? Absolutely no expectation of payment?

She remembered Banon.

"Of course," she stepped back into the room. "You rebels need my help to open the Sealed Gate, but unlike last time at your base, you knew I'd refuse if you ask. Instead, you're trying reverse psychology."

Locke acted as if she was insane, but Celes read him like a book.

"I know you're smart, so here's a hint: I don't like being lied to."

"I've no idea-"

"Shut it. The Sealed Gate is as important for my future as it is for you Returners. And I need your help to get past the security in the area, so it's your lucky day. Lead on."

They left together, even holding hands to ease the worries of the elderly couple. While Locke was busy with a compass, Celes reached inside her vest and flicked a switch.

---

"We cannot afford further delay," Cyan said. "With each second that passeth-"

"Why don't you _shuteth_ up," Sabin snapped. "It's only been a few days. We can afford another hour."

"The Empire presses upon us!" Cyan gestured out the barricaded window at a dingy scantly afloat. "We must take our leave, lest they alert their navy."

Sabin groaned in frustration. "Help me out here."

Edgar sighed -- he had been hoping to avoid an argument today -- but Banon was still recovering from their escape. "I don't know if we can trust Locke, but he was right about Biggs and Wedge."

"A trick-"

"At the very least, he deserves a chance to explain himself," Edgar interrupted Cyan. "Hopefully he'll also tell us Gestahl's dead."

As if bidden by those words, the door flung open. "Sorry guys, but the old man's alive," Locke declared.

Cyan and Edgar drew their stolen swords immediately while Sabin took a few steps to flank the entrance of the safe-house. Not because of Locke though, but rather _who_ was behind him.

"The witch and her pet," Cyan hissed at Celes.

"Locke, start talking," Edgar's patience was at an end.

"Sheath your weapons," Celes sounded bored as she closed the door behind her. "I'm unarmed."

"Like I care," Edgar snapped as Sabin slinked closer to her.

"She betrayed the Emperor and tried to overthrow him," Locke explained quickly. "Her plan failed and now Gestahl's more powerful than ever. He's given the entire army to Kefka!"

"We guessed as much," Edgar lied.

"Then you'll be relieved to know I'll open the Sealed Gate for you," Celes folded her arms. "Now tell your idiot brother to step back before I decide I don't need your help."

Edgar knew his brother wouldn't back down from a threat, and he wasn't going to give Celes the room she needed to overwhelm them. He took an aggressive step forward.

"You know where the Gate to the Esper World is?" Banon bolted upright, suddenly wide-awake.

Celes gaped at the old Returner. "What?"

"So _that's_ how Gestahl's reviving the ancient power," Banon mused. "And you're half-Esper. If you convince them to join us-"

Celes threw the door aside and stormed out.

---

_Shit._ Locke ran after her. "Celes, wait!" He hit the sand just as a flash of light sailed over his head and exploded in the ocean.

"I told you already: I don't like being lied to."

"I never lied!" Grains of sand fell off Locke as he got to his feet. "_You_ brought up the Sealed Gate -- not me -- and _you_ convinced yourself that it was our plan. I just followed along."

Celes' cheeks went cherry-red. "Then you Returners are the biggest idiots ever!" she screamed. "If you don't even know the basics of your enemy's weapons, how are you supposed to fight them?"

"That's why we need you!" His friends were almost upon them -- Locke's time was up.

"I don't trust liars, nor do I work with them," a frosty mist sheathed Celes' arm. Her other hand was buried in her cloak -- a knife perhaps?

Thunder roared. From the heavens came a burst of red light and their boat smitten in an explosion of flame. A pressure wave slammed Locke face-first into the sand.

"For Doma!" Cyan jumped over Locke and swung, but his sword found unexpected resistance:

A frosty blade of ice.

Dark shadow fell over them as Celes laughed, her frozen sword shattering Cyan's. Locke looked up to see the shape of a ship blocking out the sun. Lines of rope fell around them as soldiers rappelled from the sky.

"Celes, you said it yourself: you need our help to fight Gestahl!" Locke pleaded.

As black-leather Imperial soldiers landed in the sand, Celes brandished her icy blade.

"Well, now I have a _better_ plan."


	12. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Chapter the Twelfth - Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

Imperial soldiers landed in the sand with blades drawn, a ring surrounding those who dared to harm their general. Weaponless, Cyan and Sabin exchanged looks of amusement. 

Celes watched the two men charge into the fray with a sigh. Sparkles danced from her fingertips.

"No!"

With a giggle, she directed a blast of icy shards at Locke.

"I might not know _how,_ but I _do_ know you could've called for help at anytime," Locke grunted as he barely dodged her spell. "If you didn't need us, you wouldn't have wasted so many weeks coming here."

"Oh, so the last few weeks with me were a _waste_, were they?"

Celes' icy blade slashed so closely that Locke felt frost form against his skin. He cursed again as she thrusted, this time catching his loose sleeve. "Dammit Celes," he couldn't believe this. "What do you want from me?"

She tripped him and laughed. The tip of her blade rested against his neck, droplets of cold water pooling at its point. "I want you, _dearest_."

"Wha...?"

"You'll sneak into the bases securing the Sealed Gate and sabotage them, just like you did to our forces occupying South Figaro. In the chaos, I'll enter the caverns."

"You... you could've just asked."

"I might've if you hadn't lied to me," Celes playful smile twisted into a sneer. "Now do as I say, or everyone dies."

Behind her, Edgar tripped over driftwood with soldiers in pursuit.

"You realize you've already tried this once," Locke growled.

"Why change what works?"

"Works? Well I'm not helping you, so why don't you go find Gestahl and beg for your life?"

Celes pressed the blade closer to his throat. A drop of his warm blood mixed with the icy water. "You think I'm kidding?" she hissed. "I have no qualms killing you."

"Remember?" Locke pointed at himself. "_Not_ stupid. We're dead anyways; you destroyed our only way home. So go ahead, kill me. Sign your own death warrant, I'm sure you have a spell for an ice pen somewhere in that-"

Celes kicked. Locke barely turned away in time as a cloud of sand covered his face. He wiped his eyes clean and saw that she had backed away.

"Well?"

Celes glared at him, but it was less spiteful than usual. She fingered something inside her vest. "Land the ship," she growled into the collar of her cloak. "This is going to take a while."

---

Edgar rubbed his sore shoulders and sighed. "Then it's settled," he said wearily.

"I do not feel comfortable with your role, King Edgar."

Banon squeezed Cyan's shoulder. "It's the best use of our resources. With you and I together, we can lead the resistance with impunity. Edgar would merely be a target, one whose loss would harm us more than his presence."

"That is true, but I trust neither thief nor witch. Edgar, yours is a dangerous task."

"No worries Cyan, he's got me looking after him," Sabin puffed out his chest and laughed.

"That is but of little discomfort."

Sabin's face twisted in confusion. "I'll assume that's a compliment."

The door opened. Outside, the last rays of the setting sun bathed Locke's frame in orange radiance.

"And what does thy mistress desire?"

Locke ignored Cyan's snide remark. "They're ready."

Sabin strolled out first, closely followed by Banon. At Edgar's silent urging, Cyan strode past Locke without any further altercations.

"Well?"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're over a week late and when you get back, you bring _her_. Tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Locke snapped.

Edgar sighed in frustration. As he walked through the door-frame, Locke grabbed him by the elbow.

"I thought we were better friends than this."

Edgar gave him a thin smile. "Mark my words, I'll find out what's going on between you two."

"There's nothing-"

"Then you wouldn't be so damn secretive, would you? You haven't even told us what you're going to do for her."

Locke gritted his teeth. "I don't like your tone."

"Then we're done here," Edgar left without a further word.

---

"You?" Sabin's mouth dropped open.

"It's not really that surprising," Banon shrugged. He held out his hand. "I don't believe we've properly met, _Wedge_."

The white-haired man adjusted his flamboyant rimmed-hat. "Setzer's the name," he laughed as they shook hands.

"So that _is_ the _Blackjack_. I never did believe the rumours," Edgar remarked. He found it hard to tear his eyes away from the airship. "Never thought someone of your reputation could sink to such lows."

Setzer's smile vanished. "You want a ride or not?"

Edgar heard Banon quickly exchange hushed words with Cyan. Even the old Returner was going to have his hands full keeping Cyan from exploding on Setzer and his crew. "You will be taking Banon and Cyan back north," he explained.

"And what do you think you're doing? " Celes snapped from her seat on the rocks. Strangely enough, none of her goons were present.

"Helping you, of course," Edgar grinned. "Both me and my brother."

"I don't need either of you."

"Well they're coming." Locke had finally caught up to them.

"I don't want-"

"Well we don't always get what we want, do we?" Locke snarled.

Surprisingly, Edgar watched Celes bite her tongue. What was going on here?

"I told you before: they'll see us coming if we take the _Blackjack_," Celes retorted at last. Her ears were red. "Stop being so petty."

"This has nothing to do with walking. We need them," Locke declared.

"An irresponsible king who abandons his people to foreign invaders and his brother, a vagrant who actually manages to be more irresponsible? Yeah, we _really_ need them."

Setzer groaned. He pointed at Banon and Cyan. "You two, get aboard. I've lost enough dignity for one day, I'm not listening to anymore of this."

"Setzer, remember your place," Celes snapped.

"Oh, I remember perfectly well. You're the one who's forgetting."

"Don't test me, _Captain_."

Setzer sighed. He was halfway up the ladder with Cyan trailing. "Keep it up hon; you've almost convinced me you're no better than _he_ is."

As Celes' cheeks reddened, Edgar suddenly grasped the intricacies of their situation. He strolled before her and held out his hand.

"Looks like we're stuck together. Let's start over on friendly terms."

His tone, perfectly balanced between sympathy and pity, angered her exactly as he expected. "If you want to live through the night, you better keep your mouth shut," she hissed.

Edgar lowered his voice. "And if you want to beat Gestahl and his spies, you better smarten up. Because right now, us Returners are the only people you can trust, aren't we?"

She looked ready to burst with rage. For a moment, Edgar thought he went too far.

Celes shot to her feet and stormed off.

"Smooth. You really have a way with the ladies," Locke held out a backpack in each hand.

"Lady?" Edgar scoffed. "Anyhow, I'm sick of leaving my fate in the hands of others. It's time to grab a hold of the reins."

With that said, the three men hurried after Celes' shadow.

---

"This path will lead us down there," Celes pointed down the rocky cliff.

"Lead the way," Sabin seemed reluctant to challenge such a steep descent, especially in the deep of the night with nothing but moonlight to go on.

Edgar glanced back. In the distance, a trio of mountains peaks were illuminated by the red glow of an inferno.

A sigh left his lips. Now he knew why Locke had been so reluctant to explain his promise to Celes. Remote military bases were more than just barracks for soldiers, it was a small town that supported the lives of hundreds of families. Even if it was they were Imperial, the blood of innocent women and children were on Locke's hands.

"There's still a lot of guards," Sabin noted through the inky darkness as they rappelled down the cliff.

"You're looking at a decoy. What kind of secret would it be if a dozen Armors are always camped out front?"

They could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if they couldn't see her.

"Where's the real one?" Edgar asked, doing his very best to avoid a snappy retort.

"Marked as storage. It looks unimportant and with the base in flames, I'd expect most guards to desert their posts."

---

It was as Celes said, though a pair of grunts had been left behind. They fell quickly to sword and fist.

"Forget the bodies. They'll assume it was the Espers."

The two brothers exchanged nervous looks and followed Celes into the cavern. Torches flared to life as the trio made their way past boxes of alleged foodstuffs piled high. It took them quite a while to make it through the maze.

Locke was waiting for them at the other end, sitting atop crates that had once covered a secret passage.

"How in the-" Celes stopped herself. "I ordered you to watch the base."

"Ordered?" Locke raised an eyebrow. "I'm not one of your goons. I don't take orders."

Celes folded her arms. "Really."

An explosion from behind slammed them into the ground. Crates flew past as a cloud of smoke slowly dissipated.

The entrance was blocked.

Liquid flame flowed over the rocks between them and freedom. They watched in shock as the heat intensified, melting the stone and sealing the entrance of the cavern completely shut.

"Are you insane?" Sabin turned to Celes. "You just-"

She silenced them with a frosty glare. "Remember: _I'm_ in charge. I don't tolerate insubordination!"

"But you-"

"Shut up! You'll follow me and do as you're told, or you can leave and die searching for the exit. But either way, I'm _through_ putting up with you idiots."

Celes pulled her cloak tight and marched deeper into the cavern.


	13. The Open Door

**Chapter the Thirteenth - The Open Door**

Locke was scrutinizing Celes as she stretched up on her toes, trying to decipher the strange runes engraved into the huge archway. Every so often she would spin around with a suspicious scowl, only to find Locke diligently searching the walls for hidden switches. The moment she turned back to the Gate, he would be watching her again.

"I think you're right," Edgar finally admitted.

Sabin yawned. "About time you believed me."

"I know him a lot better than you do."

"Yeah... promises and pretty girls, right?"

Edgar's brow wrinkled. "How did you know?"

"Genius must be in the blood," Sabin winked.

Edgar scoffed. "Well, I wish you stopped me earlier. Coming along with these two was the worst idea I've ever come up with."

"I'm surprised she didn't try to bolt while we were sleeping."

"Yeah," Edgar glanced down the passage they were guarding. The red glow of lava reminded him of the uneasy night; stewing in their own sweat next to molten rock, being scrutinized by a moody Imperial witch who was key to leaving the caves as well as defeating the Empire.

Edgar rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I'm surprised we're still alive."

"Locke, help me with this," Celes waved.

The two brothers watched as the two shimmied up the side of the Gate and began to scour the top. They were working together remarkably well.

"Maybe not so surprising," Sabin noted.

Celes and Locke covered each side of the Gate quickly, professionally, and dropped back down without incident. She went back to scribbling in her notebook while Locke listed off the things he saw.

"Maybe not," Edgar agreed.

Celes shot to her feet. "I got it. Get back."

"The key to opening it?" Edgar asked.

Celes wiped the sweat off her brow. Her eyes locked on him. "Better."

"You figured out a way to keep them from killing us? It's not like we're on good terms," Edgar reminded everyone of the War of the Magi and the Empire's attack on the Esper World.

"And I care because...?"

Edgar stepped back in surprise as her eyes began to glow red and her skin turned white. Her pale lips twisted into a condescending sneer.

The three men dropped to their knees and covered their faces as a blast of wind shrieked by. Gusts whipped pebbles at them as a chill settled into the chamber.

"Oh hell."

Celes floated in the air, form-fitting armor revealed as her cloak and hair fluttered upward. Her voice entered their minds.

_"I am... Terra."_

The cavern began to shake, rocks falling from the high ceilings and then lifted by the winds swirling around Celes. Cracks began to appear, light streaming from the other side of the Gate. It was so blindingly bright that they had to shield their eyes.

_"Brothers, sisters... help me."_

And they responded.

Ferocious gusts tore them from the ground as the Gate blasted open. For a moment, Edgar stared directly into the light. He felt them: their presence, their minds, their emotions... they were coming.

And they were angry.

---

Edgar's face twisted in disgust as the smelling salts brought him conscious. "The Espers!" he cried. He patted his own body, making sure he was still whole.

"Not here," Sabin wiped his hands and stretched.

"Celes?"

Sabin pointed. She was resting against the cavern wall, eyes closed, legs crossed and arms folded.

"How long was I out?"

Sabin shrugged. "No idea. I lost consciousness when those things broke the gate."

The Gate. Edgar glanced up and saw that it was once again shut tightly. "Well, I guess that plan failed."

"Not at all," Celes brushed the dust off her cloak as she made her way through the rubble. "They came to aid me, they're just unused to this world after spending so much time in another."

Edgar's brow furrowed.

"Magic isn't easy to control," Celes rolled her eyes as if it was obvious. "They'll find someplace they can adjust slowly: holy ground where they can hide. I need to be there."

"And where would that be?"

Celes smiled deviously. "Thamasa."

"Never heard of it."

"I'd be surprised if you had," Celes seemed abnormally talkative. "It's a small village on an island far to the east. Nothing more than a bunch of savages living off the land, they're ignorant of the rich history beneath their feet."

Someone grunted from behind the wall of rocks and when they turned, Locke had crawled his way from underneath. "I found a path," he said before taking a swig from his canteen.

"Good job Locke," Celes said. "Lead the way."

---

As they rappelled down a smooth-faced cliff so tall and impassible that even castle walls were jealous, Edgar could understand why Celes had been so confident. It had seemed like a bottomless pit; no one in their right mind would try to scale down it.

Yet sunlight greeted them when they landed at the bottom.

"No way we can get back up," Sabin remarked as he strained his neck skyward.

"Not at all," Celes snapped her fingers.

Edgar let go with a cry. His glove was covered with frost and his palm stung from the sudden cold.

Sabin glared at the rope suspiciously and tapped the frozen line. He jumped back as it shattered.

With a growl, Edgar tore off his ruined glove and stormed after Celes. His words were cut abruptly short by the impressive hull of the _Blackjack_.

"Get aboard," Celes ordered.

---

Setzer was waiting for them when they arrived at the quarterdeck. "Lady, King," he greeted before scowling at deck-hands. "Get back to work! We're leaving!"

Edgar followed Celes, half-listening while his eyes feasted on the wonders of a flying ship.

"Air force?" Celes glanced up at the clear azure sky.

"The entire fleet. It wasn't easy going to the northern continent and back... twice. My skies are crowded."

"A sign of what's to come."

"I'm losing my freedom," Setzer growled. "You're lucky I managed to get through at all."

A smile. "I'm sure it wasn't all luck, Captain."

"You're in a good mood," Setzer rolled his eyes. "Where to?"

"Thamasa. Is he below?"

"Yeah." Setzer turned to the quarterdeck. "Lift-off, helmsman!"

"Sure thing boss!"

Edgar followed Setzer while Celes led everyone else below. As the airship lifted off, a refreshing breeze washed over them. The King of Figaro admired the propellers and canvas above them, pondering how it worked at all.

"Like it?"

Setzer had removed his hat, long white hair flying behind him in the breeze.

"Love it," Edgar answered with a goofy grin.

"So do I," Setzer's whispers were almost lost in the wind. He was staring into the vast expanse of empty sky. "So do I."

---

"-and rebel elements have managed to destroy another convoy. We believe someone is selling them information and a full inquiry has begun. Intelligence believes that news of the Palace's destruction may have emboldened the Figarians, but cannot account for the co-ordination behind the attacks. They conclude that the rebels have re-centralized their command."

Gestahl's fingers tapped restlessly against the side of his lavish throne.

The aide cleared his throat uneasily and decided to skim the report. "There's still no news of the escaped rebels... Special Forces believes they're at sea. While the ocean is firmly in our control, it is unlikely we'll be able to catch them until they tak-"

"Enough," Gestahl interrupted. "You may go."

"As you command, Your Imperial Majesty."

Gestahl sank back into the plush throne, its unfamiliar feel a reminder of what he had lost. He lazily wrapped his fingers around an ornately-decorated glass goblet, swished the wine around, and then proceeded to pour it over the marble floors. The red liquid seeped into the cracks, making its way across the room slowly.

He sighed.

"Our little friends are back!" Kefka exclaimed as he burst through the doors. "Quite a temper tantrum too, burning those bases."

Gestahl glanced up. "They broke out of the Sealed Gate?"

Kefka cackled. "Delightfully! I can't wait to meet them."

"Why now?" Gestahl groaned. They had remained silent for so long, there was no reason to break out now. And so soon after he had lost her...

His eyes lit up.

"Coming?" Kefka asked impatiently.

His interest faded away. "No. Do as you will," Gestahl waved Kefka away.

After all, she was dead.

---

Celes hefted her pack higher. "Fine, go ahead. Waste your time with those uncivilized animals."

Locke frowned as Edgar grinned victoriously. "We should stick together."

"Somebody should talk to the people in Thamasa. Anyhow, you already have a guide," Edgar's eyes drifted slowly to the dark cloaked man standing off on his own. "I'll meet you guys back here in two days," he waved as he walked off.

Locke uneasily watched Edgar leave. He felt Sabin's hand rest on his shoulder.

"He'll be fine."

"Yeah..."

"Locke," Celes was waiting next to Shadow, her foot tapping impatiently. "Let's go already."

With a sigh, Locke tore his eyes away from Edgar. Mountains loomed ahead, and Espers somewhere within those tall snow-capped peaks. 


	14. The Last Hope

**Chapter the Fourteenth - The Last Hope**

"He knows you're watching him," Locke remarked. 

Sabin grinned. "That's fine."

In front of them, Celes and Shadow were conversing quietly. They had once again come to an impasse, lost in the vast forests that sat at the base of tall forbidding peaks. The expanse of green foliage covered treacherous ground beneath, trees of varying heights hiding the dips, gullies and ridges. Even Setzer was at a loss, and he saw everything from the sky.

"Over there!" Celes' raised voice caught their attention -- she was pointing at one of the tallest mountains.

Shadow threw his arms up in disgust. The two returned to their hushed banter.

"I don't trust him," Sabin decided. "He doesn't know these mountains any better than we do; if I had a week, I could bumble my way to that peak too. She's lying to us: this guy isn't a mercenary or a guide."

"Now you're sounding like Edgar," Locke grinned when he saw Sabin's angry glare. "Anyways, who could memorize this maze?"

"I could," Sabin huffed.

Locke sighed. "Did your brother mention anything yesterday?"

"Nothing interesting, at least the folks in Thamasa like him though. He said he's going back, apparently he thinks he's on to something."

"Probably just keeping busy," Celes remarked as she joined them. "Locke, help me with the water-skins. Our _brilliant_ guide's finally moving."

---

Four days later, they were finally scaling up the mountainside above the treeline. Wild grasses and loose pebbles made travelling slow and arduous; it wasn't steep enough to utilize ropes, but easy enough to slip on the bed of gravel.

Shadow and Sabin were far ahead of Celes and Locke. They were in an unofficial race, starting when Sabin teased Shadow's survival skills. Now the two men charged up the mountain with precision and speed, intent on reaching an imaginary finish line before the other.

Celes wiped the sweat off her brow. Her long hair had been tied into a ponytail, her cloak wrapped around her waist and leather armor stowed away.

Locke waited once more, eyeing the way her tunic clung to her skin. "You want a break?"

"I'm not tired," she snapped. To prove her point, Celes marched past Locke.

With a sigh, Locke followed wordlessly. He decided to trail behind but after a few minutes, sweat dripped off his forehead and into his eyes -- he realized he had little choice in the matter. By the time Locke caught up, he was gasping for air.

Celes knelt in a bed of gravel, picking up a flower by the stem. The bulb was an odd shade -- it was white at first glance, but as Locke's eyes roved, it seemed to shimmer with all the colours of the rainbow.

"What's that?"

Celes seemed lost in her own world. She sniffed the flower and sighed wistfully.

"Celes?"

"They're called Censants. My father loved them," she answered in a friendly voice, eyes still focused on the white blossom. "It's a good sign."

Locke swallowed, thoroughly unnerved by her good mood. He reached for one of the flowers, half-hoping it was a hallucination and Celes wasn't actually enjoying herself. The moment his hand brushed a frosty pedal, the blossom crumbled.

The flower was made entirely out of ice.

When he glanced up again, Celes was watching him intently.

"What?" Locke rubbed his hands guiltily.

Her arms were folded around her waist. "Why did you save my life?"

A chilly breeze passed between them.

"I wanted to," Locke answered at last.

Celes brushed back a wispy strand of hair. She pressed her pale lips tightly together.

"That's it?"

Locke bit his tongue. "That's it."

She seemed to have more to say, but instead sighed and turned away.

Awkward silence accompanied the pair until they reached the odd rock formations near the top. Sabin and Shadow were waiting for them, the latter hooded yet sweatless.

Locke ignored the goofy grin on Sabin's face. "What are those?" he pointed at a strange trio of statues. Time had worn away all the details.

"Relics from another age," Celes answered calmly. Her hands rested on her hips. "Which way?"

Shadow pointed. Ahead of them, a ruined bridge stretched over the dip in the mountainside. It was barely intact enough for them to cross, but in its glory days, Locke had no doubts it supported thousands at once.

The two mountaineers surged onward, leaving them alone once more.

---

Locke glanced around the inside of the cave. Light streamed through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the large chamber better than their lanterns. Black stone sparkled from the sunlight, causing Locke to flinch from the glare.

Sabin and Shadow stayed by the entrance, neither willing to follow Celes as she strolled through the field of white flowers. Neither wished to test the patience of Espers.

Locke stayed two paces behind Celes; her skin already milky-white. His head was pounding from all the Censants, shimmering with a different colour every second. It was odd. Despite their beauty, never in his travels had anyone spoken of these flowers. Yet here was a vast field of them and legendary beings in the midst of it all.

Coincidence? He glared suspiciously at the field of shimmering flowers growing out of solid rock.

If Celes was worried, she did not show it. She unbound her hair -- now an icy blue -- and stood in front of the largest of the Espers, one of the few that stood upright and looked vaguely human.

_"I am Terra."_

_"Welcome, daughter of Maduin. I am called Yura."_

There were at least a dozen of all shapes and sizes. Most looked like mundane animals, but they were much larger and their vividly-coloured furs as unnatural as the flowers Celes loved.

_"Your human-form keeps you hidden and safe. Why reveal yourself after all this time?"_  
_  
"Ramuh is dead," _Celes declared.

Murmurs spread throughout the gathered Espers, their voices accompanied by a rumbling in the mountain.

_"The others?" _Yura asked.

_"Everyone was killed by the Empire; the very same humans who broke into our realm eighteen years ago. They will not rest until they have destroyed us all."_

The mountains were definitely trembling now. As the field of flowers swayed back and forth, Locke's eyes were assaulted by a cacophony of colours.

_"Such arrogance!"_ Yura growled.

_"I resisted, but they are too powerful. The Emperor killed even Tritoch."_

_"Tritoch? He survived the war?"_ asked a cat standing upright.

_"Yes, and he sacrificed himself to save me. I need your help. We must kill the Emperor before he is strong enough to assault our realm once more."_

Locke suppressed the compulsion to tell them the truth, that Celes wanted to rule the Empire herself. They needed the Espers to help them kill Gestahl, and if they had to lie in order to do so...

Well, he had already done much worse.

_"We came to help you, to rescue those we have lost,"_ Yura declared. _"For our departed brethren, we shall help you destroy this human empire."_

With a sigh of relief, Celes' hair and skin returned to their proper colour. "Thank you. Are all of you here?"

_"Those willing to fight. Others came, but they have dispersed themselves around this world searching for our friends. It will take time to find them, and more time to convince them."_

Celes frowned. "What about those back home?"

_"They-"_

Suddenly, all the Espers looked up.

"What's wrong?" Celes glanced back at Locke, who quickly exchanged hand-signals with Sabin. Both Returners shook their heads.

_"They are doomed,"_ Yura growled angrily. _"We are too late."_

A burst of static came from Celes' pack. She grabbed the speaker of her radio.

"We've got company!" Setzer screamed frantically.

"Air Force?"

"Are you blind? Look west!"

Celes charged out of the cavern. In sky to their west...

"Is that an _island_?" Sabin's mouth dropped open.

"Yeah. That looks like a flying island," Locke whispered. "And there must be at least two-dozen airships out there. I didn't think there were that many."

_"The humans have stolen the power of the Goddesses,"_ Yura's voice boomed.

"I don't get it," Celes growled. "The old man's anything but stupid. He can't possibly think he's sneaking up on-"

Her eyes widened.

"Setzer! Get out of Thamasa, _now_!"

---

East of the village, on the opposite coast from which the Floating Continent was approaching, an armada skimmed just over the ocean surface.

"Enough waiting," Kefka's voice crackled over the radio. "Exterminate them!"

Admiral Jake of the 1st Airborne, pride of the Empire, marched to his quarterdeck. "Alright men!" he shouted. "Enough of this cloak and dagger bullshit, prepare for battle!"

A cheer rose from the deck.

"Lieutenant! Signals to fleet: interpose and intercept the _Blackjack_," Jake ordered.

With a spray of sea-water, six airships peeled away and rose into the clouds. Sky Armors launched from their decks as they blazed a trail across the sky, encircling the island from the north and south.

"First Officer!" the Admiral folded his arms. "Prepare for bombing run!"

Three more airships blasted off the ocean surface, at their lead the re-christened flagship of the 1st Airborne: the Leo Christophe. Imperial flags flapped proudly in the wind as they bore down on their target.

Thamasa.


	15. Divine Might

**Chapter the Fifteenth - Divine Might**

Airships thundered overhead, their triangle formation angled towards the village of Thamasa. Cannons glinted menacingly under the sunlight as cargo doors opened.

"They're not after us," Locke stated the obvious.

"Not yet." Celes twirled around and stuck her finger in Shadow's masked face. "Who else did you tell, _mercenary_?"

Shadow glared back at her, but Sabin quickly stepped between them. "Hey, calm down-"

"Gestahl knows about Thamasa. That's why he's going after them first and dealing with us later," Celes glared accusingly at Shadow. "You sold them out, didn't you?"

"What?" Locke snapped. "I thought they were just a bunch of savages, Miss Civilized."

"They're magic users!" Celes was livid. "Every single one of them! Of _course_ Gestahl wants them dead."

"A village of mages? And you didn't say anything?" Locke gawked at Shadow.

Celes' eyes went wide. "Edgar."

"My brother will survive," Sabin folded his arms confidently. "I'm surprised you even thought of him."

But Celes wasn't listening. "How'd you find us?"

They all turned around. Edgar was just climbing over a rise, behind him an elderly man.

"So you already knew they're descended from War of the Magi survivors," Edgar watched Celes like a hawk. "You lied, _again_. I should've known."

"Why would you care? They're _pacifists_," Celes spat. "Now who's he?" she glared suspiciously at the red-cloaked white-whiskered elder.

The old man pushed past, ignoring her and gawking at Yura. "Espers... by the Goddesses, you've returned," he whispered reverently.

"His name's Strago," Edgar answered. "He helped me find this place and had some interesting stories about statues. But I'm sure you knew about those as well."

_"The enemy has stolen the Statues,"_ Yura declared. _"Existence itself is endangered."_

"No," Strago breathed. "They can't wake the Goddesses! They imprisoned themselves to prevent another apocalypse!"

They flinched reflexively as an explosion roared, shaking the mountainside and briefly lighting the sky. When they turned towards Thamasa, all they saw were thick plumes of glowing smoke rising into the sky.

"Our home! _No!_"

All eyes turned to the sound of a little girl shrieking in horror. She had just climbed over the rise behind Edgar.

"Relm?" gasped Strago, Edgar and Shadow.

---

Kefka rubbed his hands with glee. "One down, one to go!"

Gestahl slouched in his seat. They were encamped before the Trinity of Goddesses, dozens of Magitek Armors ready to defend the prize of prizes. Legions were busy subduing monsters while construction machinery cranked away; the foundation for a new palace was being laid.

"Now that they're dead, let's find out what these gorgeous girls can _really_ do!"

Gestahl brought another bottle of wine to his lips.

"Well?"

Gestahl lolled his head in Kefka's direction. "As I said: do as you will."

Kefka studied Gestahl for a moment, then shrugged. He turned to the three statues looming before him.

"Show me power!"

---

_"We are in grave peril,"_ one of the Espers -- a lion-like beast with a mane of green hair -- approached Yura.

Locke stopped glaring at Shadow for a moment and turned to the Espers.

_"We must leave immediately,"_ Yura decided.

Celes shook her head and cursed. "I've been trying. I can't get a hold of Setzer-"

"We're stuck here?" The floating island was drifting ever closer. Locke squinted and tried to make out the dots. "Those are Armors along with the airships; Gestahl's brought everything he's got."

Edgar groaned. "So this is it."

_"That is not the danger."_ Yura marched beside Celes, towering over the lithe woman. _"Terra, think of someplace safe!"_

Celes was tying her leather armor tight around her waist. "What do you mean?"

_"You must tell Fenrir,"_ Yura pointed at a large, monstrous grey wolf.

Celes narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Can he really do that?"

_"He must. Quickly!"_

With a deep breath, Celes' hair shimmered and her eyes glowed. Fenrir's eyes glowed equally bright.

_"Maranda."_

---

As soon as signals were received, the fleet's mighty engines spewed dark exhaust fumes across the sky. They scattered away from the island, retreating with best possible speed.

Few questioned Kefka; they were lucky enough to be warned.

The village of Thamasa was still ablaze, the ground molten and churning as great knots of smoke rose to blot out the sun. Ash rained down from glowing clouds, feeding the hungry fires that had devoured anything living. But there was one who had been in the forest collecting flowers for his wife to be.

Tears were running down his face when he felt _reality_ cry out in pain. He turned towards the island in the sky.

A white beam erupted forth and smashed through the mountains, breaking them as it burrowed deep into the ground. From a multitude of fiery explosions rose an impenetrable curtain of light. It loomed overhead, annihilating everything in its path.

And then, darkness.

---

"I've never seen anything like it."

As the sun was setting in the west, it was rising in the east. Locke's mouth was open in awe, and he was not alone.

_"Thamasa is gone. We must stop the Empire before they truly awaken the Goddesses."_

Yura's words snapped them out of shock. Locke glanced around and saw a cloaked shape departing for the city upon the horizon. "Celes, where are you sneaking off to?"

She turned her head. A smile was on her face, framed by the light of both suns. "To get what we need from some old friends."

"I'll come with you."

"Don't trust me?" Celes chuckled lightly. "We _are_ on the same side."

Locke folded his arms and glared suspiciously. "Are we?"

Her lips curled into a devious smile. "Believe me: I want to kill Gestahl so much, consider it a _promise_."

With Locke still tripping over his tongue, Celes winked and turned away.

---

It was deep into the night when he stirred from his slumber. _Someone was coming. _Locke gripped his knife and slowly opened his eyes.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Edgar?" Locke yawned before sitting upright. "You know I never let my guard down, not even asleep."

"Maybe not for physical threats," the King of Figaro winked. "Your judgement has been spotty of late."

"She'll come back."

"Never suggested otherwise; the Espers are still here. But you... you actually believe in her, don't you?"

"We can't all be proud of our past."

"But we can regret it."

Locke groaned. "If you woke me for this-"

"No," Edgar answered with the finality of judgement rendered. "I was just speaking with Yura. Did you know Espers aren't the only beings tied to magic? Trees, fruits, flowers... they tell me their entire world is filled with beauty that no longer exists here, as if vegetables grow in their footsteps!" Edgar laughed.

"So what's this got to do with me?"

Edgar raised an eyebrow. He stretched his arms towards the full moon. "How long have you known Shadow?"

The abrupt change of topic caught many off-guard, but Locke was used to Edgar's verbal trickery. "Since the _Blackjack_," he answered without hesitation. "A couple minutes before you met him."

"Now that's a lie."

Locke glared suspiciously at Edgar. "What are you accusing me of now?"

"Nothing," Edgar grinned. "Just doing a bit of due-diligence for my brother."

"Well-"

His words were cut off by a beam of light that illuminated the two. Wind whipped past them, carrying dead leaves into the air as more floodlights blinded them. The two men looked up.

An airship dived out of the darkness, plummeting like a hawk.

"The Empire's found us already?" Edgar growled.

"No," Locke held Edgar back. He pointed at the prow of the ship.

Celes stood tall upon the bulwark, barely visible under the pale moonlight. Her cape fluttered in the wind, long hair freed and sword by the hip. With her arms folded, she watched them reservedly.

"She's found the _Blackjack_," Locke observed proudly.

---

They boarded the airship through the loading bay. Low ceilings forced everyone to duck as they made their way through the berthdeck. Edgar noticed there were many more hammocks this time.

Reinforcements.

Celes was waiting for them upon the weatherdeck. A self-assured smile was upon her face, but that vanished the moment Edgar poked his head out. "Why are you still here?" she growled as the Figaro brothers climbed into the fresh night air.

Edgar quickly interrupted Sabin's snappy remark. "Because we owe him," his hand rested on Locke's shoulder. "He _bartered_ us out of Vector."

"What?" Locke's face twisted in confusion.

Celes sighed. "Fine. Where's Shadow?"

"Gone," Locke answered, still eyeing Edgar suspiciously. "Kid was bawling after she saw her home burning. Since they're homeless as well, Shadow decided to escort them both away from all the fighting."

"Running away as usual," Celes grumbled. "Figures. Should never trust mercenaries, especially one as unpredictable as-"

"He's doing the right thing for once," Locke interrupted. "I think that says it all."

"Yep, you said it all," Edgar laughed confidently. He patted Locke on the back, "we'll pay you back, that's a _promise_."

Locke was struck speechless.

"This is _real_ touching," Celes rolled her eyes and waltzed to the bridge.

"She's never in a good mood, is she?" Sabin quipped.

Edgar left his brother and Locke, climbing a few stairs to the quarterdeck. The officers of the ship were gathered there, including the portly 'Biggs'. "How'd you make it out?" he asked Setzer.

"Luck."

"You alright? You seem grumpy."

Setzer narrowed his eyes. "I evaded the _entire_ Imperial Air Force today. We've still got holes in the hull and I lost a lot of good men."

Edgar finally noticed the patches in the bulwark. He hadn't seen any of the hasty repairs thanks to the cover of night.

"Worse, somebody's turned my precious _Blackjack_ into a cargo ship."

"Now there's good reason to mope," Celes rolled her eyes.

Setzer glared back fiercely.

Edgar cleared his throat and quickly interceded. "Where to?"

"Kohlinghen," Celes answered.

Setzer swore beneath his breath before storming off the bridge.

"And what's there?" Edgar asked as he eyed the departing Captain.

Celes grinned.

"Our ticket to the Floating Continent."


	16. Checkmate

**Chapter the Sixteenth - Checkmate**

"Sir." 

Admiral Jake of the 1st Airborne turned around. It was boring work, patrolling the skies around the Floating Continent as it made its way north. That the _Leo Christophe_ had been demoted to such a mundane role...

"What is it?" Jake adjusted his hat to keep out the rain.

"The _Invincible_ reports sighting of the _Blackjack_, leeward some twenty leagues."

Jake's ears reddened upon hearing that name, the only airship in the world that was not under his command. She had humiliated his Captains once before and the only thing worse than Kefka's wrath had been the Emperor's apathy.

A single squadron could defeat the _Blackjack_, even with her elemental cannons. And if Jake believed the stories of her Captain's exploits, then perhaps a second squadron was necessary. Yet there were three _fleets_ above the Floating Continent, and still nothing had been sent to avenge such an embarrassment.

"Leeward, you say?" Jake frowned. They were flying into the wind... "Are you certain?"

"It's the _Invincible_."

Jake nodded. "Yes, thorough is an understatement where she's concerned." He turned to his Lieutenant. "Get me the General."

Moments later, the officer waved Jake over to the consoles beneath the bridge.

"I'm afraid the General is ill-disposed at the moment." The voice came through the speaker crackling with static. "However, I could relay your message to His Imperial Majesty."

Jake knew this was important enough to disturb even the Emperor. "Please do. I report sighting of the _Blackjack_ bearing from the north. Requesting permission to deal with the rebels by any means necessary."

Silence for a minute. Then the radio crackled to life again.

"Permission granted, Admiral," the Emperor's aide replied.

Jake stormed onto the weatherdeck. He peered over the bulwark, reassuring himself that the rest of his fleet was still in formation. Their hulls were visible, though difficult to see with the mountains of Tzen passing underneath.

Leeward. What kind of Captain would give up the weathergauge to the enemy? Every advantage was necessary, outnumbered as he was. It was amateurish and given the alleged skill of Setzer Gaibanni...

"Signals to the 2nd Airborne. Intercept and destroy the _Blackjack_."

"All of them, sir?" the Lieutenant asked incredulously.

_"All of them,"_ Jake eyed the bank of dark storm clouds only minutes away. He still felt uneasy. "Signal the rest of the fleet, we'll manoeuvre south."

---

"One final note."

As Celes briefed the crew of the _Blackjack_ from the gangway, Locke could see why she was a general. Everyone was listening intently, hanging on to her every word, and they weren't even professionally-trained soldiers. They were sailors, undisciplined brutes who followed Setzer out of respect and shared goals.

"This-" she hoisted up an odd looking tube: like the sheath of a sword but with many mechanical protrusions, "-is a Magitek Rifle, smaller cousin of the elemental cannons aboard. You've manned those before -- this one will kill you just the same. Thankfully, they're experimental. This will likely blow up if I press the trigger."

She pointed at the gun-crews. "But those around the Emperor will certainly have functional prototypes. If you see a man with a rifle, he's a top-priority target. Ignore them only if you have your sights set on an Armor."

Setzer cleared his throat.

Locke turned around. Setzer and Edgar were quietly speaking to one another.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"-and remember," Celes' voice caught his attention. "_I'm_ in charge. Follow my orders without question and we'll all live through this one. Then you'll never fear the Empire again!"

The men cheered.

"Alright you dogs!" Setzer shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stop staring at the lady and get back to work! We've got an Emperor to kill!"

With those words, the _Blackjack_ exploded into ordered chaos.

"I still don't see why we couldn't magic our way onto the island," Sabin grumbled beside the thief. He stepped aside as a squad of Celes' soldiers squeezed past and disappeared below decks.

"The spell is limited to places we know," Locke answered, his eyes following Edgar's every movement.

As if he knew he was being watched, Edgar glanced up nonchalantly. "That storm looks mighty unfriendly."

"Well then," Celes said as she waltzed onto the bridge. "Maybe you'd like to leave?"

"And miss all the fun? I wouldn't dream of it."

"This isn't a game," Celes warned. "It's likely none of us will come back alive. I never asked for your help, so this is your last chance," she looked at Edgar, Sabin and finally, Locke.

Her glare softened. "Leave while you still can."

Locke folded his arms. He gazed into her eyes with unwavering determination.

"Idiot," Celes whispered softly as she broke eye-contact with Locke.

"You sure this will work?" Edgar was standing next to the helm. "There's a lot of airships."

"You're afraid of those dumb bastards?" Setzer laughed.

"The decoy's perfect," Celes raised her voice. A devilish smile slowly crept across her face. "The air force will be completely out of position."

---

"Keep a weathereye out! I don't like the looks of this storm!" Jake hollered as rain lashed onto his deck.

"3rd Airborne reports full readiness, Admiral."

Jake nodded. He had ordered a wall of a battle, ships of the line stretching across and into the stormy sky. Nothing would break through that, not against the combined batteries of two fleets.

"Sir, the _Invincible's_ made contact!"

Jake turned to the midshipman beside the radio. "What did they find?" he barked.

"They're engag-" the soldier paused. "An illusion! The whole thing's a trick!"

Jake nodded. "Order them back."

As the midshipman began to flick switches, his face twisted in confusion. "Sir, they're screaming about a cat..."

"What?"

"Transmission's breaking up," the midshipman put his ear directly next to the speaker. His eyes widened. "A dragon! A dragon just crushed the _Indomitable_!"

"Admiral!" it was one of the boys on the masthead. "Ship ahoy! Low and southward!"

"Buzzing across the mountains to avoid being sighted; they're mimicking us," Jake growled. "Well we're flattered, aren't we?"

Grins came from those close enough to hear their Admiral.

"Signal to all ships: _Kill!_"

The_ Leo Christophe_ shuddered as her engines were pushed to full power. The flagship of the 1st Airborne had a new heading and following her were over three-dozen airships. Innumerable Sky Armors swarmed around the massive fleet.

The Imperial Air Force had been embarrassed by the _Blackjack_ for the last time.

---

_"Holy shit."_

Even Celes' eyes were wide in shock at the number of vessels silhouetted against the dark, churning clouds. They covered a huge expanse of the sky: the perfect net.

"Pulling back?" Setzer asked.

Celes eyes glowed._ "Yes."_

---

"They've seen us."

"Of course they've seen us," Jake scoffed. "Now we know whether they're men or mice. Have the _Emperor's Will_ and her squadron encircle; I'll not tolerate the _Blackjack's_ escape."

"Aye aye!"

Jake watched as the _Blackjack_ changed course hastily, rising through the relentless rain. Immediately, he understood their intentions. "They're trying to hide in the storm! Send in the Sky Armors!" he shouted.

Hundreds of twin-propeller aircraft peeled out of formation, surging forward with twice the acceleration of even the _Leo Christophe_. At that rate, the lighter craft were only a minute away from the _Blackjack_.

But the clouds were only seconds away.

The enemy airship entered the darkness, vanishing out of the sky. Without hesitation, hundreds of Sky Armors tore through the clouds in pursuit.

"Send the 3rd Airborne above," Jake ordered. "We'll interpose beneath."

The wall of battle split in half, dozens of vessels blockading the _Blackjack's_ escape routes. With Sky Armors slowing her down, there would be no running away.

Wind and mist whipped by as rain hammered the deck of the _Leo Christophe_. Jake stood proudly upon the bridge, waiting for the inevitable.

He did not wait long.

A ship broke out of the clouds, black fumes trailing from the blimp above. Fires could be seen spreading throughout the hull as Sky Armors bombarded it with gunfire.

Jake's eyes narrowed.

"Sir, that's not-"

A blast of light erupted from the sinking ship, vaporizing a squadron of Sky Armors before the beam sliced through the _Conqueror_. As the battleship dropped out of Jake's sight, a massive bird with purple wings burst out of the _Blackjack's_ hull. It's sword-like beak sheared through Sky Armors as a shrouded green phantom materialized out of thin air.

"Is... is that a _flying whale?_"

"Espers!" the Lieutenant snapped all hands out of shock. "Fire at will!"

Cannons thundered as hundreds of guns blasted away. Clouds of smoke engulfed their hulls as the beasts flew towards them. Magic exploded from the mouths of monsters: fire, ice and lightning tearing through the fleet.

A fireball smashed into the _Leo Christophe_ and sent her spiralling out of formation. Flames covered the side of the hull as the storm clouds above glowed menacingly with lightning.

But Admiral Jake was not watching the battle.

"Sir!" the midshipman shouted again. "That's... that's not her! It looks similar, but it's another decoy!"

Thunder roared as the 3rd Airborne broke through the storm clouds, dozens of ships firing in tandem.

"I know," Jake whispered darkly. "But..." his eyes met the aide's. Goosebumps ran down his back as rainwater dripped off his face.

"But then, where's the _Blackjack_?"

---

They were cloaked by shadow, sheltered from the rain by a floating landmass above them.

_"The Falcon may not survive,"_ Yura warned.

Setzer swore beneath his breath.

"Lift-off!" Celes ordered as her skin returned to its normal shade. "Captain, keep your mind on the prize: the Emperor's head and the freedom you desire."

His eyes lit up at that thought. Setzer began to laugh maniacally as his vessel trembled.

From the shadow of the Tzen Mountains, the _Blackjack_ shot out its hiding spot and blasted into storm engulfing the Floating Continent. The air force was scattered apart, engaged in battle against the remnants of Esper-kind.

Nothing remained between them and the Emperor.


	17. The Mind of the Enemy

**Chapter the Seventeenth - The Mind of the Enemy**

The klaxon blared. 

"My Lord!" a young boy dashed through the corridors of the half-constructed palace. Rain splattered against the awnings above them. "Admiral Jake says the _Blackjack's_ coming here!"

Gestahl yawned.

"That stupid flyboy," Kefka snapped. "Get the fleet back!"

"They can't, they're fighting Espers and can't spare a ship!"

Kefka was red-faced. "What an idiot! Fine, the Returners think they can threaten _me?_ I'll show them _real_ power!"

As he stormed towards the Statues, Gestahl stirred in his throne. "How was my entire air force tricked?"

"Magical illusions and-" the aide gazed into the sky uneasily, "-some sort of decoy airship."

Gestahl's eyes narrowed. "That can't be all of it. "

"They split the fleet in half despite the Admiral's precautions, using one from the north to..."

As Gestahl listened to the report, he grew more energetic. By the time the aide finished, his fingers dug into the gold weaving of his throne. "The rebels know our operational procedures," the Emperor growled.

Their plan was deviously brilliant: multiple charades to confuse, co-ordination difficulties exploited with precision, _and_ it was accomplished with meagre resources.

It was something _she_ would do.

The aide swallowed. "Intelligence was worried about spies."

_She_ was dead. It was a spy; it _had_ to be a spy. Gestahl rose from his throne, his face burning with rage. "Major."

The commander of the Imperial Guard saluted, a dozen soldiers behind him. "All Armors mobile, anti-air batteries prepared. We've been trying to get grounded Sky Armors back into the sky. Unattached squads are currently digging positions at construction sites around the isl-"

"The Returners will come right here," Gestahl growled. "We have a spy amongst us."

"Sir?"

"It's the _only_ explanation," he hollered over the roar of the storm. "I want my legions _here!_"

Within a minute, hundreds of soldiers assembled around the skeletal superstructure. Armors were hidden upon every floor, the tips of their cannons barely visible behind unfinished walls and piled construction materials. Archers lined the ramparts, but barricades would do little good against a flying enemy.

Fierce gusts tore the awnings away, heavy rain bombarding the exposed interiors of the palace. Guards wearing crimson-armor arrived, several holding Magitek rifles. They surrounded the Emperor and kept a watchful eye on the dark skies, awaiting the rebels to burst out of the churning clouds.

Gestahl shivered. He turned to his side, looking past the barricades, beyond the walls, and focused on the top of a cliff.

_Like something she would do._

Propellers rose into sight and lifted the _Blackjack_ over the rocky ridge. Her broadside faced them, gunports already open.

"Get down!" the Emperor bellowed.

Lightning erupted from the ship and twisted its way through Armors and men alike. Blinding strands of electricity rippled through dozens of the Empire's finest, dead long before their convulsing bodies hit the ground. Cannonfire accented the symphony of light, thundering as battlements exploded.

Caught completely off-guard, Armors tried to reposition. They were blasted apart as they did so, lightning and cannonball tearing through solid stone and shredding their limbs. Cranes toppled into the palace, collapsing the skeletal frame and taking with them dozens of Armors.

But those defending the Emperor did not give up so easily. Ten Armors fired simultaneously, beams of spiralling infernos vaporizing debris and flying towards the _Blackjack_.

They disappeared.

Gestahl felt chills run down his back as numerous Armors opened fire. Liquid flames enveloped a thin shell around the _Blackjack_ as she sailed over the palace. Lightning lashed down and cannons roared.

And as the superstructure collapsed around him, he saw her upon the bulwark.

"Celes," Gestahl whispered.

Her hair was fluttering in the wind, glowing-azure blade held out at her side. She stood unflinchingly as cannonballs exploded through the hull beside her, a symbol of bravery to rally around. Where she gazed, lightning followed. Where she gestured, men died.

A tear ran down his cheek.

---

Setzer started laughing again.

Edgar quickly grabbed the rigging as the _Blackjack_ dipped, cannonballs flying over their heads while liquid flame splashed off her hull. He wiped the rainwater off his face and flinched as lightning flickered down from the heavens.

Celes was screaming orders and the crew did their best to keep up. Sabin was repositioning one of the elemental cannons, rain-slickened muscles gleaming with every blast of electricity.

Edgar slipped on the deck as Setzer pulled up. He barely grabbed a hold of the railing, hanging over the weatherdeck as they twisted and turned.

"You're going to kill us before she gets the chance!"

Setzer laughed harder.

---

"Isn't it _fascinating_ how the Imperial Air Force is so massive? All of a sudden, they have more battleships in the air than I have at sea."

Celes was briefing the crew about their plan, her words as indisputable as a God's. With a sigh, Setzer turned around and scowled at Edgar's interruption.

"You're a smart man, Setzer. How's it possible that the Imperials have so many vessels in the air?"

"I wouldn't know," Setzer grumbled. "They've been around for the last few months, dogging my every flight."

"Ah yes, your precious skies. Yet none before then?"

"What are you getting at, _Your Highness?_"

"They weren't all built in a day; someone had to have commissioned them a year or two in advance. Curious, abruptly expanding the air force by such a margin... and with such auspicious timing too."

Setzer's mood darkened.

"Such expenditures must be limited to a select few. Who would have such free reign? Perhaps a newly promoted general, not from the ranks so they would have few budgeting commitm-"

"That's so farfetched it's downright impossible!" Setzer snapped.

The two men glanced around uneasily. But no one had noticed Setzer's outburst, their focus was on Celes.

"Well, once we're on the Floating Continent, what do you think she's _really_ planning?"

"Wha-?" Setzer's mind drew a blank.

"Say she succeeds: she kills Gestahl and what's left of the Empire's leadership. What happens next?"

"She returns to the Empire-"

"To a civil war? Rise from the ashes of death coincidentally after the Emperor's killed in battle?"

"You think she's afraid to break a few eggs?"

"You think she's too stupid to plan ahead?"

Setzer recalled Celes' plan for the Triumph. He narrowed his eyes. "Okay, _now_ I'm listening."

"We both know she's not branded a traitor. Gestahl would've had enough trouble maintaining order after the Triumph, he wouldn't dare reveal the truth."

Setzer knew that the Emperor had publicly shed tears for Celes, who died heroically trying to save Leo from the burning palace. "Go on."

"So, the Returners are still blamed, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Setzer growled.

"And after the Emperor's death, what would be more perfect to return to Vector with, but the heads of those who tried once before? Of course, she'd need more than just us... perhaps someone who helped defeat the air force and assault the island?"

Setzer's knuckles were white, his fists clenched and shaking. "She _did_ order the airships," he hissed. "She expanded the air force purposefully."

"And gone is your freedom, until she comes along with a carrot to dangle."

Setzer cleared his throat. "So, why are _you_ still here?"

"You must risk big in order to win big."

"Good words to live by."

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "She's already lost once against the Emperor. This time, she expects artillery support from your ship. But even then, she'll push her limits fighting Gestahl, won't she? Even if she kills him..."

"-you'll never fear the Empire again!" Celes suddenly shouted. The crew of the _Blackjack_ cheered in response.

Setzer watched the lady general in her element, basking in the glory of bloodthirsty men. So she was going to play him, was she?

"I'm in."

---

Thunder roared and lightning struck, but for once, it was not the _Blackjack_.

"Boss, the storm!"

Ropes of lightning tore into the Floating Continent, lashing around and through the palace's steel frame. Rain battered the deck of the _Blackjack_ as she twisted once more, evading blast after blast of angry flames. Gusts of wind intensified, sending the ship into a sudden spin.

"Setzer!" Edgar shouted as he held on for his life.

The Captain of the _Blackjack_ cackled maniacally, his beady eyes ensuring Edgar knew his next move was intentional.

He let go of the wheel.

The _Blackjack_ twisted and spun through the sky, lightning and cannon still erupting relentlessly. Celes screamed orders from the prow of the vessel, balanced upon the bulwark without a hint of fear.

"You're _insane!_" Edgar screamed.

Setzer laughed. "Next stop, the Floating Palace!" he grabbed the spinning wheel and held it fast. Torrents of wind tore men off their feet and sent them flying off the vessel. Imperial cannonfire exploded through the hull and splinters shredded unlucky sailors.

Celes stood unflinchingly as the vessel collapsed around her. Her hair whipped back and forth with enough force to lash men to death, but she held on as they plummeted out of the sky.

And with a shudder, they stopped.

"General!" Setzer shouted.

The _Blackjack_ hovered inches from the ground, cannons still trading blasts with numerous Imperial battlements from all sides. Rising plumes of black smoke were torn aside by the stormy gusts for Edgar to see:

They were before the palace's stairway.

Celes lifted her blade into the sky. A bolt of lightning erupted from the clouds and lashed into her, but as tendrils of electricity flickered and sparked away, they could see her eyes glow with power. She turned to the bridge, a deadly glare reminding them of the consequences of failure.

Edgar, still hanging off the gangway, watched as her gaze softened.

Locke stood tall, rainwater splattering off his soaked and torn blue jacket. He whispered to her, but Edgar couldn't read his lips.

Black leather-armored soldiers rappelled off the side of the ship as the cargo doors burst open. Two Magitek Armors stormed out, blasts of blue flame announcing their presence.

Without another word, Celes leapt off the ship.


	18. A Hurricane of Emotion

**Chapter the Eighteenth - A Hurricane of Emotion**

They hit the muddy ground with a splash, rolling through craters left behind from the onslaught of artillery. Soldiers in black leather -- Special Forces utterly devoted to their General -- loosed a volley of arrows. Ferocious gusts blew many aside, yet some still pierced soft, yielding flesh. 

Celes landed on flash-frozen mud. A gloved hand brushed specks of dirt off her brilliant white cape as the ground began to harden. She frowned disapprovingly at the water dripping off her gloves.

"Stabilize the ship!" Edgar shouted as he kept an eye on Celes. "I can't maintain a firing solution if we're shaking!"

An explosion ripped through the bulwark and sent Edgar scrambling for safety. The cannon beside them was blasted backwards while her gun-crew fell to the ground screaming for their lost limbs. Splinters shredded their skin and their insides spilled onto the deck.

"_Stabilize?_ We're being attacked by _artillery!_" Setzer scrambled over the gangway as the ship rocked from another explosion. He started screaming orders at the boys hanging off the swaying masts.

"Edgar, get down!"

Edgar hit the deck with a splash, tasting rainwater as Sabin pressed his face against the planks. The heat of an explosion scorched his rear and bits of wood bounced off his back. Fires were spreading throughout the ship by the time Edgar got back up.

The rain had stopped.

Setzer sprinted to the bridge with cordage between the teeth, and more wrapped around the wrists. "I want us off the ground!"

Edgar spun around. "We can't leave! Celes needs us to cover her!"

"Forget that insan-"

"She'll think we're betraying her!" Edgar pointed at the lady casually slicing apart Magitek Armors. "Without us, she won't go after Gestahl and that means we lose _everything_."

Setzer bit his tongue and gestured south instead: an airship was approaching, smoke trailing from its engines.

"That's it?" Edgar wiped his cheek when he felt something cold stick to it.

_Cold?_

Edgar glanced up. The dark clouds were dotted by millions upon millions of tiny white flecks.

---

Twin Magitek Armors marched through the fresh snow, defiant bursts of sapphire flame striking down their stalwart brothers while Celes held back the pitiful counter-fire. Her strike teams were already taking the battlements, cannons turned back on the very palace they were supposed to protect. The old man had lost this time.

Snow whipped into her face.

Celes spun around, face red with rage as she watched the Blackjack lifting off amidst flashes of lightning.

"General?"

"_Edgar_," Celes hissed. Her eyes glowed as a wave of flame splashed over them. Snow vaporized as she gestured back at the Magitek Armor, icy spikes tearing through the ground and impaling the machine. Black oil leaked out of its wounds as the Armor collapsed.

The Blackjack accelerated higher in the sky, barely visible through the gusts of snow. A roar of thunder accompanied the churning storm clouds, still dark despite the white blanket it spewed forth.

"Colonel," Celes growled. "Prepare to dig in. We're holding position."

A gloved hand pointed through the thickening blizzard. "This layout's identical to Vector's. We should retreat east," the Colonel suggested.

"Make it happen," Celes ordered as she launched a red flare into the sky. Artillery thundered in response to her signal, commandeered cannons blasting away with twice the vigour as before. They had to, for they were no longer supported by the broadsides of the _Blackjack_.

Their enemies knew this as well. The Imperial Guard swarmed out of the palace by the hundreds, Magitek Armors and cannons close behind. Explosions blanketed Celes' forces as arrows innumerable fell upon them, cutting through armor and tearing into flesh. Armors attacked together, a colossal wall of flame that broke against Celes' will.

Her forces returned fire, cannons blasting apart the exposed Armors and arrows loosed the moment the wall of flame dissipated.

Celes felt an arrow split her cheek open. She wiped her face and stared at the bloodstained glove. Thunder roared above her, but it was not the storm.

_Live, Edgar. Live so I may throttle you myself._

---

Edgar scrambled to the bridge, arm across his face as vicious gusts whipped snow into his eyes. Lightning flickered past and scorched the _Blackjack's_ hull. Snow piled atop of the treacherous decks, slippery with half-frozen puddles.

"It's just one damn frigate!" Edgar shouted over the ship's groans as she lifted higher into the sky.

Setzer gestured south. "A _frigate_ doesn't involve itself in battle. Don't you know _anything_ about manoeuvres?"

"Do you?" Edgar snapped over the roar of thunder. Another flash of lightning reflected off millions of snowflakes and blinded them from all directions.

"Tiny ships don't retreat alone! It's either leading the fleet or-"

A gust of wind blasted aside the curtains of snow. To their port: the shape of a ship twice their size, fifty muzzles glinting at them.

"The _Emperor's Will_," Edgar whispered in horror.

She roared.

The deck exploded apart, smoke engulfing them as ice and wood flew everywhere. Blood splattered onto snow-covered planks as shotboxes detonated. Men who avoided cannonballs tearing through their bodies were shredded apart by the debris as the _Blackjack's_ ammunition stores exploded.

Setzer pushed Edgar aside as masts fell, crashing through the broken weatherdeck and then thrown aside by the gusts. Sailors fell off the ship as she pitched, the _Emperor's Will_ pouring broadside after broadside of artillery fire into a crippled _Blackjack_.

A cannonball exploded through the deck, splinters lashing Edgar's chainmail as he was blasted away. His heart skipped a beat: he was falling through the stormy sky.

Yura grabbed him by the arm, dislocating it with his immense strength. The Esper roared, throwing Edgar back into the ship.

_"Hold fast."_

A tempest began to swirl around the ship. Setzer slipped on a patch of ice and slammed headfirst into the bulwark as the _Blackjack_ was lifted by a cyclone. Gripping onto frozen ropes, his hair whipped across his face as he glanced into the snowsquall.

"Lady Luck be damned."

Four tornados churned out of the clouds above and twisted through the _Emperor's Will_, shearing the vessel with ease. Sailors were blown overboard as if they were specks of dust. The ship splintered apart, fingers of an angry god sinking into her hull and tearing her into thousands of pieces.

The snowstorms took on a life of their own, twisted tempests engulfing men falling through the sky. Curtains of snow passed between them and the sinking carcass of the _Emperor's Will_, and just beyond her:

Another battleship.

"Yura!" Edgar screamed as the newcomer sailed through the debris. He braced himself for another onslaught when a shadow passed over him. He looked up.

It was the _Leo Christophe_.

The thunder of cannonade threw Setzer into the wheel. Blood rained overhead as one of his officers was blown apart; a torn limb catching him across the face. Masts and sails came crashing down as the deck collapsed, blasted into rubble by a third Imperial warship. The dark shadow of their pursuer hovered above them and cried for vengeance.

A cannonball tore Yura in two. His blood splattered across Edgar's frozen face as Setzer desperately threw lever after lever. The _Blackjack_ shuddered and began to ascend, thick black knots of smoke trailing out of her many wounds while her hapless crew fell into the snowstorm.

"Setzer, you're taking us into the blizzard!" Sabin dashed across the burning deck, a fistful of rope in one hand as he grabbed his screaming brother. "We won't survive that!"

Setzer gritted his teeth as both Imperial vessels thundered, a hundred cannons putting holes in _his_ ship and killing _his_ crew. He could hear sails crashing onto his bridge, and with one eye on the instrument panel and the other on the deadly cyclones ahead, a low chuckle escaped his bloody lips.

"Are you _insane_?" Sabin screamed as a shower of splinters nearly took off his head. He pointed ahead. "You'll kill us all!"

Setzer laughed manically.

With two Imperial battleships in hot pursuit, a crippled _Blackjack_ accelerated into the center of four tornadoes.

---

Silence.

Despair seized her as the abrupt absence of rhythmic thunderclaps finally sank in. Even if they fought through the sea of brown leather, she was still alone in her struggle against Gestahl; none of her soldiers could threaten him and Yura was upon the _Blackjack_.

Worse, she knew her forces were thinning out. Though she advanced fearlessly through the hail of swords, arrows and flames, her soldiers could not. The lucky ones were killed in a blast of magical inferno, painless in comparison to those who would bleed agonizingly to death.

A burst of flame nearly vaporized her arm.

With a revitalizing cry, Celes charged up the ruined stairs. A volley of icicles tore through her foes as she carved a bloody path through her enemies. Soldiers or Armors, it made no difference to her.

_Everything_ died in a hail of metal and ice.

And then her sword was blocked; her magic rebuffed. Brown leather gave way to flowing red capes: the Emperor's elite bodyguards. Their blades clashed with hers, neither side giving ground. Yet there were a dozen surrounding her and behind them were countless more Imperial Guardsmen.

"Surrender or die!" their commander demanded.

Only two still stood beside Celes. The gore-covered men made their choice without hesitation.

"Glory to th-!"

Their battle-cries were cut short as thin bursts of light vaporized their chests. Even before their limbs landed in the snow, Magitek rifles were trained once more upon Celes.

"Steel or magic, you can only block one," the commander's blade glinted from a flash of lightning as he lowered to a fighting stance. "Drop your sword, Miss Chere."

Celes' grip tightened. She had lost.

Again.

"Edgar," Celes hissed. _The Returners had cost her everything._

"I won't ask again," the commander unsheathed a second blade. "Surrender or die."

Celes closed her eyes, a single tear trickling down her cheek as she did so. "Fine," she whispered.

She brandished her sword.

"Let's make this quick."


	19. Twisted Fates

**Chapter the Nineteenth - Twisted Fates**

Angry dark clouds spewed forth a white blanket to suffocate the world. Thunder roared as lightning lashed across the entire Floating Continent, innumerable flashes of electricity leaving their marks upon the unholy island. 

Gusts of wind brought the smell of charred flesh to his nose. His feet waded through a lake of fresh blood. That so many of his finest had made the ultimate sacrifice did not dawn upon him. He was oblivious to all save one sensation: a sense of _purpose_ that inundated his very soul.

The sea of soldiers parted aside.

"Let's make this quick."

It was _her_ voice -- that sweet, clipped tone rife with strength and confidence, yet tempered by just a hint of dread.

Thin elemental beams erupted and splattered upon a yellow aura; demons of lightning, ice and fire twisting around an impenetrable shield searching for any weakness. As the runes of her sword glowed with power, five polished blades pierced her magical defences.

"Stop!" he hollered.

Swords halted in mid-air and Magitek rifles fell silent. Many of the blades had already sliced through her armor; their sharp points pressed against supple skin.

"Defiant until the very end. I knew it was you."

All eyes turned to the Emperor as he strolled through the ring of elite bodyguards surrounding Celes. He brushed away the snowflakes sitting pristinely upon his royal silks.

"Come to gloat one last time?"

Gestahl sighed wistfully. Despite her bitterness, a smile graced his wrinkled face as he eyed her from head to toe.

"I've missed you, Celes," he replied warmly.

Celes was shocked, and that hurt more than her barbs or attacks ever did. It was _his_ fault. He had never treated her with the love he professed, nor told her what she meant to him.

"It is a blessing that you survived," Gestahl whispered as a tear ran down his frost-covered cheek. "The Goddesses have smiled upon me at last."

Rune-entwined metal still separated them, but he had expected her resistance.

"No more mistakes! No more games!" Gestahl continued. "You are my daughter-"

"I don't-"

"-and my Empire is yours."

Silence hung in the air, a thousand men exchanging thoroughly confused expressions. But none could match the bewildered look on Celes' face.

"What?" she whispered.

"You will be crowned Empress and I shall step aside, nothing more than a shadow of the past. I will give you _everything_. All I ask..." Gestahl's throat felt parched. "All I _want_ is your forgiveness."

Celes narrowed her eyes.

"Forgive me for my sins against you. I only wanted to give you the best, I..." Gestahl felt short of breath, but he willed himself to continue. "I only wanted you to be happy, my daughter."

"You never cared before."

"I never knew myself. But I have changed," Gestahl took a deep breath and opened his arms. "Please, can you find it in your heart to forgive a foolish old man?"

Surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, alone and exhausted, Celes stood before the Emperor in his naked grief. An equally warm smile graced her face, eyes softening as she lowered her sword.

"Of course, _father_."

---

"There's our opening!" Edgar screamed as the ship pitched over. He gripped his telescope desperately as he fell into Sabin.

Men were hurled into snow-filled sky as the _Blackjack_ dived around a cyclone. The trio of airships twisted through the center of four raging tornadoes, cannonfire a dull roar compared the tempest encircling them. Sails were torn away as the _Blackjack_ skimmed too close to the voracious forces of nature, trying desperately to avoid another broadside of Imperial wrath.

"Setzer!" Edgar shouted as Sabin held both him and the elemental cannon. Explosions engulfed the broadside of the _Blackjack_ as the _Leo Christophe_ cut across their bow, every gun ablaze.

"Forget steady; just make it predictable!"

Setzer hung from the wheel, the planks beneath him reduced to rubble. He swung aside and ditched his shredded coat. "You've got one shot, make it count!" he yelled as he drew his knife, slid beneath a wooden beam, and sliced apart a cluster of ropes.

The _Blackjack_ fell.

Tears ran freely as wind and snow whipped into Edgar's eyes. His telescope was trained unerringly upon their target below.

"Three degrees lower!"

Sabin grunted as he repositioned the cannon alone. "Where's Locke when you need him?" he grumbled.

"On my mark!" Edgar snapped.

And as the _Blackjack_ plummeted through the sky -- pursued by the thunderous onslaught of Imperial battleships -- Celes and Gestahl entered Edgar's sights.

They were embracing.

Edgar sneered in disgust. She had once again deceived, manipulated and betrayed them all. His telescope panned over to her rune-covered sword. It was upon the ground, covered with snow and _very_ far out of reach.

He grinned.

_"Fire!"_

And he was bathed in light.

---

Relief was accompanied by a warm, glowing sense of victory. And as Celes felt her hands sink into chilly layers of soft, luscious Imperial silk, a triumphant smile spread across her blood-splattered face.

It was over. She had won.

It had cost her greatly in both mind and body, but she had come out on top. No more pretending to be what she was not. No more scheming in order to achieve her will. No more pathetic grovelling to those who profitted from her many sacrifices.

At long last, she had the authority and power to match her dreams. Now, it was _their_ turn to quiver in fear.

The ground trembled.

Blinding white light washed over them as a beam erupted from the center of the Floating Palace. It blasted away the tornadoes, the blizzard, even the clouds as it tore a hole in the sky. The storm followed its trail, snow swirling into the air and wind tearing them off their feet.

Soldiers, artillery pieces and Armors were ripped off the ground as Celes held onto Gestahl. They alone stood firm, even the Emperor's bodyguards were torn away by the sudden cyclone.

All save one.

Of all of the Empire's finest, _he_ withered the storm. Wind wretched his crimson mask away while his cape disappeared into the sky. Past his scowling face fluttered flakes of snow, as white as his hand clutching a Magitek rifle in a death grip.

Locke Cole.

---

The blast of energy streaked past the _Blackjack_ and sliced an Imperial airship in half. The vessel splintered apart -- flames engulfing its hull as ammunition stores exploded. Tornadoes descended like vultures, tearing her apart and casting the broken hull towards the world below.

And into the _Blackjack_.

Sabin held onto his brother as the vessels collided, debris tearing through their ship and ripping through the engines.

It was over.

He grabbed the guardrails as an explosion broke the _Blackjack_ in two, his stomach lurching as the ship buckled and twisted. Edgar vanished from sight as Sabin struggled to hold on.

They were dead.

Sabin instinctively caught the backpack thrown at him. He glanced through the falling debris.

"The cord!" Setzer shouted. "I'll go after Edgar!"

And then he too disappeared in a hail of burning wreckage.

---

Kefka laughed as the light faded away. The Statues had responded to his call, power beyond imagination emanating from the deities.

_And they were all his._

"Again!" he chortled with glee. "More power! More rage! More _divine judgement!_"

---

The second blast of energy smashed through the _Blackjack_, annihilating the vessel before penetrating the blizzard's core. Dark, angry storm clouds were lit from within, and then exploded apart as a shockwave tore through the sky.

Yet still, Celes kept her eyes on him.

Locke glared back, anger masking the pain of betrayal. He searched, but there was not even a hint of guilt on her face. Promises meant nothing to her. All she wanted was power.

_Well so be it._

Locke brought the Magitek Rifle up. He hesitated for one last moment, eyes flickering to the sword lying far out of her reach.

Celes' smile twisted into a sneer.

He pulled the trigger.

---

Celes could feel moisture seeping through the gashes in her armor. Gestahl's tears of joy had kept him oblivious of all that had happened.

The old man had finally lost his mind.

She suppressed a giggle as Locke fruitlessly pulled the trigger again and again. Her eyes glowed just slightly, smile widening as he stepped back in fear.

"I forgive you," Celes whispered without releasing Locke from her gaze.

"Thank you," Gestahl sobbed.

Her knife glided through the Emperor's back and into his heart. Warm blood spilled through her hands as she twisted the blade. She took a step back, basking in the look of shock upon his face.

"Why?" Gestahl gasped.

Celes retrieved her sword. She spoke loud enough for Locke to hear her:

"Because I promised. Goodbye, father."

And with one hand, Celes decapitated the Emperor.

His head rolled off through the snow, but neither witness noted such a minute detail. Instead, their eyes were locked on each other.

"You going to kill me as well?" Locke growled.

Blood was still dripping off her blade as she strolled up to him. He made no attempt to escape, as resigned to his fate as he was. He did not even flinch when she grabbed a fistful of his crimson tunic and pulled him close.

"Idiot," Celes flicked a switch on the side of the rifle. "It's called a safety."

The look on his face was _priceless_. Celes giggled despite herself.

"I don't understand you," Locke whispered.

"Well that makes tw-" Celes cut herself off.

_Locke's face was bathed in white light._

"Get down!" Celes threw Locke to the ground and brought her sword up protectively.

An earthquake shook the island as another blast of light erupted from the center of the Floating Palace. The beam filled her world, divine magic overwhelming her soul and tearing her _senses_ apart.

Everything went white.

Celes never felt her feet leave the ground, but as the light faded, she could see frost-covered pebbles lying inches away. Her ears were ringing and warm blood was dripping off her forehead. She desperately tried to stand, but her muscles failed her and she landed back in the rubble. Rolling onto her back and into a puddle of melted snow, she tried to catch her breath.

Kefka.

With a groan, Celes willed herself up. Her head pounded and the world was swimming in and out of focus. Ignoring the dizziness, her eyes searched the wreckage. Ice water was dripping off half-frozen arches, but nothing else was moving. She was alone.

Her eyes drifted down to her hands, still clenched around a demure piece of crimson-coloured cloth. Her grip tightened.

_Kefka._


	20. The Witch and the Thief

**Chapter the Twentieth - The Witch and the Thief**

"The Espers just fired again!" 

Swearing beneath his breath, Jake dashed onto the bridge and barely avoided a piece of flaming wreckage. "Help me with this!" he cried as he and another sailor heaved the dead helmsman off the wheel.

"We can't level off!" screamed the First Lieutenant.

Jake wiped the blood off his face. "Pitch forward three degrees, lose the topgallant royal," he shouted as he grabbed the spinning wheel. "And get that mainsail back up, dammit! If those Espers get another shot, we're sunk!"

The _Leo Christophe_ continued to dive, hull aflame with trails of black smoke leaking out of her many wounds.

"Secondary generator's gone!" an engineer screamed from below. "Main generator's in the red, we can't put out the fires!"

Jake gritted his teeth. He glanced around the burning bridge. Bodies were everywhere, impaled by the debris of both their sister airship and the _Blackjack_.

_"Dammit,"_ the First Lieutenant collapsed to the ground, his uniform thoroughly soaked in blood. The radio microphone fell out of his hand. "Reinforcements _not_ forthcoming, sir. They're too yellow to rescue the Emperor."

Jake nodded solemnly. "Traitors, leaving our Lord to the whims of Espers."

"Admiral, over half the guns are loaded. This isn't over yet!"

With a grim smirk, Jake turned to the chief and his sailors. "Well, we know what to do, don't we?"

And they did. This was, after all, his ship. Trained under his tutelage since the foundation of the Imperial Air Force, the crew of the _Leo Christophe_ were extensions of their Admiral's will.

Pieces of the hull were stripped away by turbulence as she accelerated, sails bending back from the sheer velocity. The falling battleship spiralled through the sky and pointed itself towards the center of the Floating Palace.

---

Kefka's laughter ended with a shiver down his spine, eyes reluctantly drifting upward at the source of thunder.

An airship plummeted out of the heavens, her broadside ablaze with fire as cannons screamed with rage. The ground was smashed into rubble and the half-constructed palace completely demolished. Explosions blanketed the Holy Trinity, fire and smoke consuming Kefka's vision.

But he had grown beyond mortal senses.

_"Fools!"_ Kefka gestured and the Statues responded. Energy erupted from the trio, rippling forth as waves of light that tore through the airship. As her hull fractured apart, cannons thundered one last time. Then it vanished in a curtain of flame, a thousand sailors silenced with a single thought.

He laughed.

Pieces of burning wreckage smashed through the palace's metal frame. His vanquished enemies were falling upon him: a rain of ash and blood. A rain of _victory_.

His laughter was never-ending.

_"Silence!"_

A steel beam exploded through the wall of falling debris, smashing into Kefka and sending him flying through the air. He landed with a grunt, rolling down a hill and into a frozen corpse.

"I hate these things," Kefka muttered as he brushed icy pedals off his clothes. He stood tall in a field of unnatural flowers and lifeless bodies, the Statues perched above him upon a hilltop.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of blue hair and milky skin.

So, it was _her_.

He twisted around, green light shooting from his fingertips as a shockwave of energy erupted from the Trinity, shearing through the palace ruins. Both spells hit her at the same time, but instead of a yellow shield, she simply faded out of existence.

_Uh oh._

Her fist caught Kefka across the face, fresh blood splattering over the field of corpses as Celes wrapped her hands around his neck.

_"Clown,"_ Celes hissed. Blood-slickened fingers pressed deeper into his throat.

_"Witch,"_ Kefka sneered as light danced between his hands.

An explosion separated the two, smashing them through the rubble of the palace. Both stumbled to their feet, blasts of crimson flames and icy blazes exchanged with neither side yielding.

Maniacal laughter echoed as an inferno erupted through Kefka and towered over Celes.

"Again?" Celes remarked as she eyed the wall of liquid flame. She held up her pale hands.

A blade of ice burst from each arm, both sparkling with the light of hellfire.

Kefka slammed the curtain of fire into her, but his eyes widened as she effortlessly broke out of the liquid inferno. Clusters of icicles sent him scurrying aside.

"You're just a lapdog, Kefka!"

A blast of icy mist nearly sliced off his arm.

"You can't hide in Gestahl's shadow anymore!"

Sapphire flames licked at his heels as he scrambled back up the hill. He ducked just beneath a swipe of her blade, tripped on a patch of ice, and slid on his back until he slammed against cold, rigid stone. Groaning in pain, he pushed himself off the ground and rested against unyielding granite.

Celes towered over him with glinting blades of ice. Her eyes glowed crimson.

"Aimless, toothless, and dumber than a pile of bricks. You're _nothing_ compared to me."

Kefka chuckled.

"Fitting, for you to die laughing." Celes remarked as she brought her blades down.

Water splashed off Kefka's neck.

Recovering immediately from the loss of her swords, a blast of sapphire flame rippled from her hands. Her eyes narrowed as the icy inferno disappeared just shy of Kefka.

"Now who's dumb?" Kefka pointed at the Statue he was leaning against.

The glow above the frozen God rippled over her. A beam of holy energy tore through Celes and blasted her into the sky.

Kefka thrust both hands out.

The world trembled as all three Statues responded, blinding white light erupting from the center of the Trinity. It swatted Celes out of mid-air and smashed her into the ground. Fireballs rose into the sky and earthquakes split the earth as the beam drilled her through the crust and deep into the foundation of the unholy island. Layer after layer of solid stone was her body broken against, and after what seemed like eternity, the blinding white light disappeared. Tendrils of holy energy still flickered about, thick plumes of black smoke rising from the rivers of molten rock that her prone form rested within.

"Magic doesn't work between the Statues," Kefka lectured as he strutted confidently into the crater. He watched her with an amused smile -- she was pathetically clawing her way out of the lava -- and slowed down to a leisurely pace so he could _truly_ enjoy the moment.

"Then again," Kefka mused as she pulled herself out of the molten lake, "you're nothing more than an Esper, and you know what we do with _them_."

Celes' face was matted with blood, skin blackened and flaking off as she lay upon a broken arm. Ashes rained down upon her as she struggled to breathe. Her defiant glare weakened, hair fading back to its natural colour as her grip on life diminished.

"Let me show you what _real_ power is," Kefka's eyes twinkled. "Let's see that smirk when I remake the world in my own image! Goddesses!" he raised his arms and turned around. "I command-!"

A Magitek Armor loomed over him.

---

"Not a Goddess," Locke growled from the cockpit.

The Armor's claw batted Kefka aside, sending him flying through the rubble. A blast of fire spiralled after him and melted a tunnel through the wreckage.

"Just a treasure hunter trying to keep his word!"

A blade of light sheared through the Magitek Armor's right shoulder, but still it lumbered onward. Bursts of flame showered Kefka's position as Locke drove the war machine through a hail of spell-fire. Metal plating was ripped into shreds and lightning tore through multiple pistons as the Armor's left claw slammed a flailing Kefka into the ground.

"But you damned Imperials-" Locke slammed Kefka through a marble column, _"-just keep getting in the fucking way!"_

Metal bubbled and every meter was in the red, but Locke's finger bore down on the trigger. Blast after blast of angry red flame erupted from the elemental cannon. Kefka's screams were drowned out by the roar of the inferno devouring metal, stone and flesh.

A beam of light engulfed the war machine. Locke dived out of the exploding cockpit, rolling to his feet as he drew his knives.

Kefka was still standing, wobbling on his feet with a scowl plastered across his face. Rivulets of blood ran down his cheeks and spilled over his burned and tattered clothes. His eyes were a beady-red.

"I hate you!"

"The feeling's mutual," Locke snapped as he whipped his knife and split open Kefka's cheek. With a cry, Locke charged.

"I _really_ hate, hate-"

Locke threw up his hands as he crashed into a wave of fire. His stolen armor began to melt, crimson tunic burning, and the heat so ferocious that he collapsed to his knees. The world began to swim as Locke cried out in pain.

_"-hate you!"_

And as Kefka raised his arms with the light of the Statues behind him, _she_ rose to her feet and blocked that holy glow. Blade of ice extended from her unbroken arm, Celes drove it deep into his neck. Flesh froze on contact, immobilizing Kefka's body and mind.

Her fist shattered his spine.

The ice blade -- still jutting out of Kefka's neck -- liquefied. They both collapsed to the ground, one dead, and the other well on her way.

---

Celes coughed, regretting it instantly as every single nerve in her body flared in pain. She was bobbing up and down, surely it would have been nauseating if she hadn't been so busy trying to stay conscious.

Slowly, but surely, strength seeped back into her limbs. As her eyes opened, the twinkling of the stars greeted her return to the world of life.

"Locke," she knew it was him carrying her.

"Yeah?"

"Put me down."

Locke chuckled softly.

"What are you laughing about?" Celes growled.

"Oh... just how stupid it was to expect a thank you. I never learn."

"I'm dying, you fool."

"You'll be fine. I did what I could-"

"What did you use?" Celes grumbled as she examined the bandages around her arms and abdomen. "Did you rip apart the tunic you just stole?"

"-and Fenrir will be here soon," Locke ignored her with a unwavering smile.

She eyed him for a second, wondering whether he had hit his head a few times too many. "You certainly have a lot of faith in them. Is that why you're carrying me? Because then I'll owe you?"

"I'm doing this because I want to." Locke shook his head and chuckled again. "I guess I'm not the only one who never learns."

Celes glared at him.

"Idiot."

---

Fenrir did arrive, though it was only him and the cat-like Esper. Celes watched them apprehensively, wondering how many of her brethren had survived.

_"Terra."_

Celes suppressed a groan as she straightened. Her breaths were still laboured; Locke had given her time to heal by distracting Kefka, but it had been nowhere near enough. She felt pains throughout her body and despite Locke's efforts, there were many untreated injuries.

But at least she was standing on her own.

"We are avenged, brother," Celes' voice was forcefully steady. "The Emperor and his dog will never threaten us again."

Fenrir's smile was a toothy grin. It was then that she noticed the Esper's injuries. Its grey fur had hidden most of its wounds, but a missing fang was too conspicuous.

_"We shall return the Statues back to our realm. Stray, see that the Trinity remains undisturbed."_

The cat nodded and strutted away.

_"Where is Yura?"_

Celes shook her head. "Probably aboard the _Blackjack_ when it was destroyed. I'm sorry."

Fenrir nodded sagely, its eyes reflective with the wisdom of many centuries. _"We have all sacrificed much this day and though his loss pains us all, we may rest easy knowing that the Statues continue to slumber."_

"I can't imagine what would've happened had we not intervened," Celes shook her head. Though she had defeated her greatest enemies, now her brethren were decimated. The road ahead would be a difficult one.

_"Surely, the Censants will blossom,"_ Fenrir intoned.

Celes allowed herself the luxury of a smile.

"We're falling," Locke announced. "It's been getting faster too. We don't have much time left."

Celes didn't answer. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see familiar shapes scrambling through the debris. Instantly, her smile turned deadly.

_So they survived._

Though she was still basking in the glory of victory, Celes' mind was already planning her next conquest. It would be a short one -- Edgar and his little band of conspirators could not hope to defeat her -- but she would savour the moment nonetheless.

Her slowly eyes drifted to meet Locke's. His piercing gaze bore into the depths of her soul, deep brown eyes conveying what words could never hope to achieve.

"Fenrir," Celes abruptly turned to the giant wolf. "Everyone who fought with us, they deserve a reward for their bravery."

"Wha-?" Locke's surprised grunt only made her devilish smile grow wider.

_"And where would you like me to send them?"_

Celes spun on her heel, ignoring the pain as she did so. She chuckled when she saw Edgar and Setzer freeze in their tracks. Their arms were filled with machine parts -- they were completely at her mercy and they knew it.

"You're a telepath, aren't you?" she asked as she watched them take cover frantically.

A pause. _"Yes,"_ Fenrir admitted.

"I thought so," Celes laughed lightly. "Just send them anywhere they want to be."

---

An odd feeling ran down his spine and suddenly, Locke realized that his friends were no longer upon the island. He folded his arms and glared at Celes suspiciously. "That was awfully nice of you."

She turned back around, brow furrowed in confusion. "Fenrir, didn't I say-"

The wolf began to stalk away before she finished. _"Stray requires my assistance, the Trinity has been disturbed more than we anticipated. I will return."_

Locke's suspicions grew as he watched Celes' face go red. "What?"

She spun away in a huff. "I don't understand you."

Locke kept quiet; the awkward silence seemed oddly fitting. Instead, he watched her gore-covered form amidst the broken ruins of the Floating Palace. He wondered whether the bandages would hold -- he had left his pack on the _Blackjack_ and had to manage with what little he had. Without alcohol or sterile bandages, it would be awful if she survived such grievous injuries to succumb to infection or disease. Locke hoped that the Emperor's bodyguards kept their clothes clean.

The Emperor...

"You're going back to Vector," Locke accused.

Celes didn't respond immediately, her concentration was on the night sky. "Of course," she answered at last. "Don't act like that's surprising."

"But... why?"

She turned around, a quizzical look upon her face. "It's my home," Celes answered as if it was self-evident. "It's what I've always wanted. The Empire's finally mine."

"So that's it? After everything that's happened, you still want to be Gestahl?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I'm saying that you'll end up just like him: alone, old and corrupt. Is that what you really want?"

"And what would you suggest? Leave everything I've ever known and go back with you to the Northern Continent?" she scoffed.

"That's not a bad start."

"I'll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life," Celes exasperated. "At least in Vector, I'll be Empress."

"I guess it depends on what you really want."

Celes fell silent at _that_.

Locke sighed. "Fine, I'll respect your decision. But the offer's been made."

"That you'll protect me? Even from your friends?" Celes scoffed.

Locke turned away. "A promise is a promise," he muttered beneath his breath.

A chilly breeze drifted between them.

"Fine," Celes remarked at last.

"Fine?"

"Not immediately. I still have responsibilities: people who believed in me, people I need to look after. I don't even know if I really want to go. You need to give me time..."

"How about a month?"

"So soon? Not a chance," Celes laughed lightly. "But... how about a year from today? Back where we first met."

"Where we first met?" Locke echoed.

There was a twinkle in her eye. "Where we first _really_ met."

Locke furrowed his brow for a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, I suppose that's plenty of time," he nodded. "A year from now, where we first met; that's the plan?"

"That's a promise."


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Two men stood upon a cliff overlooking the ocean. They said nothing, instead silently enjoying the rhythmic sound of waves breaking upon jagged rocks below. A refreshing salty breeze cooled off the heat of the noon sun. It was a rare moment of tranquility -- a bastion of solitude that both men treasured.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Edgar broke the comfortable silence abruptly.

Locke shifted his weight. "Sometimes I swear you're telepathic."

"Well, I _am_ a king."

"And a good-looking one at that."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, my friend. And _you're_ avoiding the question."

Locke folded his arms behind his back. His eyes drifted out over the ocean, taking in the glittering expanse of blue waters. But though he looked to the east, his mind was ever southward.

"You're thinking about her again," Edgar accused with a sigh. "I really wish this infatuation would end."

"You lost a bet with Setzer, didn't you?"

"I should've known better," Edgar shrugged. "After all, I know _you_ better than anyone else."

"We all make mistakes. It's how we deal with the consequences that counts."

"That's a pretty suave retort," Edgar scoffed. "Could it be possible? Have you actually been listening to me?"

"For the entire year."

"Well, obviously nothing's stuck," Edgar growled. "She's dead, Locke. The Empire's collapsed and Vector's been sacked, _twice_. Warlords have been fighting over that decaying carcass since the Floating Continent crashed into the ocean."

"Warlords?" Locke rolled his eyes. "We've got our share."

"Yeah, well at least these ones maintained discipline and order. Even Forsythe's people aren't starving, and he's as power-hungry as they come. The entire southern continent's a disaster. Magitek? I doubt they even have gunpowder anymore."

"Banon's spies might be wrong," Locke maintained.

"Yeah, I'm sure they're wrong. It's not like my brother had to rescue the lot of them after food and clean water became scarce," Edgar's voice dripped with sarcasm. He quickly checked over his shoulder; the ground was rumbling ever so slightly.

"I might not like Celes," the King of Figaro continued, "but I respect her. I know she'd _never_ let the Empire degrade into such anarchy and chaos. At least, not while she still breathed."

Locke shook his head. "She's alive. I believe in her."

Edgar's glare softened. "How long have we known each other, Locke?

"Too long."

"Then you know I'm only saying this because I care: you need to move on. You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to Rachel."

Locke glanced up, a hard look in his eyes. "This isn't about her."

"Isn't it? I've seen how relentless you are in trying to keep every _single promise_ you make, even if the girl in question is absolutely incorrigible. So go ahead, tell me you're not trying to redeem yourself."

Locke gritted his teeth. "Is that so wrong? Nobody's perfect, but it's what's inside that's important!"

"Actions," Edgar enunciated carefully. "That's the measure of a man. Lamenting over the past is the lowest of the low."

The ground was constantly rumbling now.

"And what about you? What will people think of _your_ actions?"

The two men glanced up to see chocobo riders halted by Edgar's royal guard. Far enough away to be out of earshot, the two bickering friends waved at the leader of the new arrivals.

With statuesque knights at his sides, Cyan Garamonde waved back.

Edgar gestured beneath the cliff, at the dozens of battleships at sea and thousands of soldiers upon the beaches. Flags of Figaro and Doma fluttered proudly in the wind, their brilliant colours a stark contrast to the black and red of the Imperial standard. For amongst brave knights and vigilant marines were towering Magitek Armors, each manned by soldiers still wearing their distinctive brown leather.

"They will know me as the King who risked his life to ensure that -- never again! -- will any kingdom stand alone against an aggressor. I have erred, but history will judge me not on the past, but on the future; of how I befriended the stranded Imperials."

Cyan was fast approaching them now.

"And I pray that letting them rebuild their homes, offering aid, forging alliances and above all: fighting only those who sought war instead of peace, I pray that it will make up for how I treated our Doman friends."

"Then we're not much different," Locke shouldered his pack with a smile.

"You're hopeless," Edgar sighed. He turned around. "Sir Cyan, welcome back!"

Cyan brought his chocobo to a halt and jumped off. "'tis a pleasure to see you again, Your Royal Highness," he said with a bow.

"I have a favour to ask: could you detach two of your finest to escort our friend here?"

Cyan's smile melted away, replaced by a detached look of professionalism. He turned around and hollered at the knights mingling with Edgar's royal guard.

"A lovely thought, but I'm not a soldier going to war," Locke waved Cyan's men away. "I'll be off now."

"Travelling alone in these times?" Edgar raised an eyebrow. "Just who do you think you are?"

Locke winked.

"Nothing more than humble treasure hunter."

---

It was cold up on the mountaintop. The winds were relentless, cutting through even the warmest and toughest of pelts. Here, in the far north of the world, winter was everlasting. And though the sun was shining in the clear blue sky, there was little warmth to be had.

_Fitting_, Locke thought.

He trudged through thick snow once more, eyes searching the desolate landscape for any sign of her. As he plodded onward, the winter gusts picked up and buried his footsteps beneath fresh snow. Mist drifted away from his mouth as he sighed.

His journey ended at the top of a cliff that jutted out over the world. High up in the sky, Locke took a deep breath of the thin, crisp air.

_Ten days._

Once more, he sat down upon the same rock. Once more, he waited. Northern gusts blew, snowflakes fell, and the sun sank beyond the horizon.

The moon was full this night.

Locke stood up and trudged back down the cliff. A familiar route, one he could have traversed blindly. It was always the same in this pristine, untouched wilderness.

Except this time.

Underneath the light of the moon, something glittered near the edge of the cliff. He made his way over slowly, and shivers ran down his spine as he realized what it was.

The icy flower twinkled back.

Locke hesitated as he picked up the Censant; he remembered how easily it had been crushed the last time. With thick gloves on, he would shatter the tiny flower.

Pulling down his hood, he undid the bandana wrapped around his forehead. He removed his glove and with red cloth between his bare fingers, reached carefully for the stem. He held it there for a moment, patient, as if waiting for the flower to decide of its own accord.

With a triumphant smile, he lifted the Censant off the ground. The blossom of icy pedals beckoned and he took a light sniff.

Memories rushed out of the floodgates, visions of the past that had been long forgotten. Locke sighed wistfully as he basked in the warmth of moments lost, recalling peaceful times and simple pleasures; of journeying through the wilderness with naught on his mind save the adventure itself.

But most of all, he remembered _her_.

All too quickly did nostalgia fade away. He was tempted to take another breath, but instead he held the stem near its frosty base and waited. When he removed his hands, the flower was back in the ground.

Behind him came the sound of something breaking through the crisp snow. His heart leapt out of his throat as he spun around.

Nothing.

Locke scanned the dark cliff-top. The barren mountaintop was just that, devoid of life. He could not even place the source of the sound.

Yet this time, his spirit did not dim. Instead, he stood near the edge of the cliff and gazed over moonlit landscape. A gust of wind sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of his bare hands. So quickly was his hood and glove replaced that his bandana fell to the ground.

Locke looked down at that piece of crimson cloth. A smile spread slowly upon his face.

"Goodbye," he whispered.

Locke Cole turned away from the cliff and began the long climb down. Behind him, a simple of piece of red cloth was carried away by the wind.

_---_

_**Finis**_

_--- _


End file.
